Café Devenir
by VioletX10
Summary: -RobStar, BBRae- Mild swearing. When Dick Grayson, heir to the fortune at Wayne Enterprises, stumbles upon a lowly but magnificent café on his lunch break, he is exposed to the world of the bookworm, the waiter, the chef, and the artist. But when comedy becomes tragedy and tables are turned, what remains of innocence is lost, and only love can prevail.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or the setting. I only own the voice that which I gave them life in this story. :)**

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**Café Devenir**

_"There are other beaches to explore. There are more shells to find. This is only the beginning."_

_-Anne Morrow__ Lindbergh_

_**Chapter One**_

* * *

Actually – now that I look back to it – we never saw it coming. Everything that led up to it, all the fighting and the drama, the hugs and the pushes, the cards were dealt on the table…and we _never_ saw it coming. It was like that unfamiliar yet comfortable smooth climb up to the climax – and then the devastatingly steep fall into 'the end'. Although I have to check on that last one. Somehow, I still have that lingering feeling in my chest telling me it's _not_ the end; that maybe after everything that's happened…we'd still keep in touch. I know it won't ever be the same as it used to be. Not after…yeah…but we'd been together through thick and thin. It's hard to imagine that after all that, we'd go back to what our lives normally entailed.

I wish…I wish things happened differently. Don't get me wrong but…I wish we _all _had that happy ending. It's really cliché – that's what Bruce thinks, anyway – and I know I'm not one to delve deep into why fairytales make me cringe. That's Rachel's job. There's nothing wrong with reading them. Heck, I _love _'The Little Mermaid' just as much as Gar loves his tofu. It's just so ironic when you read them…you know life will never turn out as dandy as Cinderella marrying Prince Charming and then living happily ever after. Look at Vic. Look at Gar. They've had such horrid pasts and presents yet they're still arguing about meat and tofu. They're banging it out on Mega Monkeys 6 almost every night. It makes me so jealous of what they have – even more so when I look at Gar with Rachel, and Vic with Karen. They're so happy it _hurts_.

Maybe I'm wallowing too much in my own self-pity. Maybe…after all this time, I still haven't moved on. Not when every day I see myself with my arm extended, reaching for their hands…seeing their faces contorted with fear as they fall with a sickening crunch to their deaths. I swore I'd never let them go and maybe I've taken that promise a little too literally. Maybe this is just the way I cope with things. It isn't necessarily healthy. Hell is it even _right_. Everyone's drifting apart already. Just as _Kory_ said we would.

All I know is…things will never be the same.

* * *

_**But before everything...before the turning point of my life's book, I was still Richard Grayson and I hated Monday mornings.**_

_BEEP – BEEP – BEEP – BEE—_

Ugh. I have to come up with a better alarm ring soon or I'll destroy this stupid thing. I groaned as I sat up reluctantly, grimacing as I checked the date. I _loathe_ Monday mornings. It's not even because I have to go to work after an _amazing _weekend. It's because I have to go to work _because_ Bruce will have my ass if I don't. Come to think of it, Bruce only does that on Mondays.

I yawned impulsively, stretching my arms and legs for eight straight seconds. Groggily, I got into the shower and locked the door. Afterwards, I put on my regular black suit-red shirt combination and set to de-taming my hair. Monday mornings are a drag because Sunday evenings won't let me keep my abnormally spiky hair in shape, so I have to keep re-spiking it first thing.

Finished. My, you look incredibly dashing today, Grayson. I winked at the mirror and stumbled downstairs for some breakfast. As usual, the overwhelming scent of bacon and eggs wafted into my nose and I inwardly drooled. Alfred _always_ had the best cooking. I greeted him a good morning before I sat down in front of my breakfast.

Alfred's 65 years old but he could pass for younger easily. He's been there for Bruce since the beginning, and now for me as well ever since Bruce adopted me. His thick British accent did take some time getting used to – especially when he uses British slang to make us confused – but after hearing it every day for the next eleven years, I guess it grows on you.

"By the way, Alfred, this is really good," I said through a full mouth. It came out warbled and incomprehensible. Somehow, Alfred still understood.

"Thank you, Master Dick," he replied, then turned to begin washing the dishes. I finished my serving quickly and got up, thanking Alfred once more before heading off to work.

Okay, fun facts time. I thought that you'd like to know that (1) I live with Bruce but (2) just 'cause I do doesn't mean he lets me off all the time because (3) he's an annoying prick and (4) I'm pretty much his younger clone.

_No_, I do not blow off business partners whenever I want to. _No_, I am not dating anyone as of yet. _Yes_, I still have an adequate amount of humanity left inside me. _No_, I am not earth-shatteringly ugly.

The last one is a lie, as you can tell. But I like to pride myself in my looks just as much as Bruce likes to pride himself with how many girls he can get on his arm in a day. Yeah. He's an embarrassment. And because of his playboy reputation, I've become a victim of the media every time I hook myself up with a girl. I am now, apparently, an authentic Gotham playboy in a Jump City world. Which is great if you actually _were_ a playboy.

"Master Dick," Alfred said, interrupting my thoughts. "Master Bruce wishes to inform you that you have a boardroom meeting at seven. Do not be late."

I nodded to show him I got the message and checked my watch. Shit. I have ten minutes to get to Wayne Enterprises, travel up to the top floor, get my notes ready and then sit listening to people drone on and on about profits for at least an hour. Well, that's the plan if I actually get there on time. Otherwise, Bruce would keep me in his office all day and lecture me on the importance of punctuality. Then he would tell me to stand in for him for a _whole_ _week_ of boardroom meetings while he goes around and prances with Selina in some flimsy hotel room. Life sucks. Aw hell, _I'm just saying that._

Okay. Plan A. I ran towards the garage and flung myself over to my most favored sleek-and-shiny black Kawasaki Ninja 250R. Hastily putting on my helmet (psh, as if I need it), I turned on the engines and sped through the open garage door.

Eight minutes. Riding my Ninja will always be the best experience in my entire life. I love the feeling of time whizzing past you, the wind in your face (when there's no helmet), and the heartwarming sense of _flying_ and power. I mean, the only exception is when you get caught going over the speed limit, but my expenses cover for that mostly.

So after taking a couple of left turns here and right turns there, I parked just in front of the 'awesome' Wayne Enterprises skyscraper and handed my keys to the first guy who comes up to me in uniform. I took off my helmet and placed it under my left arm, ruffling my black spikes in frustration as I repeatedly mashed the 'Up' button on the elevator.

I must've stood there for three whole minutes. I checked my watch and groaned. I might as well hand my ass over to Bruce to save him the time. _Ding!_ FINALLY! I got in hurriedly and continued to mash the topmost button. For a second, I thought I was going to make it unscathed but _no_. These people just _had_ to get in at the last minute to watch me get killed. I swear I need coffee.

The elevator doors closed and I felt my feet get heavy. We had to stop four times so people could get off on their floor so by the time I checked my watch again, I was already screwed. The elevator 'dinged' once more and I sprinted out, unlocked my office door, placed my helmet on the table, and grabbed the nearest notebook, then made my way towards the room where the meeting was being held.

I stopped in front of the door, already seeing Bruce sitting with a bored expression through the narrow glass slit. Shades? Check. Hair? Check. Notes? Check. Okay, all set.

I pushed the door open. "Sorry, I'm late, I only got the time of the meeting…" I paused. No one was in the room apart from Bruce and Fox. "…just…now…" I turned to Bruce who was sitting with an amused expression on his face. "Uh, where is everyone? I thought there was a meeting at seven – I even drove through a red light for this!" Bruce continued to smirk and I continued to scowl. "Wait…so there wasn't a meeting?"

Bruce Wayne, owner of Wayne Enterprises, raised a sleek black eyebrow. "Why? What did Alfred tell you?"

"He told me that you told him to tell me to be up here by seven for a boardroom meeting. I had the incentive to get here on time," I gritted my teeth.

"Well, your incentive is flawed," he said and he pointed at the clock above Fox's head. I seethed. "If it makes you feel any better, Dick, you won't have to sit through an hour of old men talking about money…at least for another thirty minutes." He smirked.

I turned to acknowledge Fox, who was smiling at our little tirade. "Can you believe this guy, Fox?" I pointed at my surrogate father with a scowl.

"I take it that is a rhetorical question, Mister Grayson," Fox replied, still smiling.

I sighed. "It's Richard, Lucius. Or Dick, like _some_ people like to call me, or like how_ some _people are." I glared at Bruce.

He only chuckled. "You just indirectly insulted your name, _Dick_."

Before I could bark back, Fox interceded. "Perhaps you would like to go back to your office and calm down a little, Richard. I'll send for someone to summon you in thirty minutes."

I nodded, helpless and more than a little frustrated at my 'father'. I stepped out into the lobby and growled. Sometimes – scratch that, _all the time_ – Bruce was such an annoying, manipulating son of a—

"Hey, Dick."

—_gun_. And he doesn't give a damn about what people go through to be on time or how they feel on a Monday morning. Surely he has a little bit of humanity…

"Dick. Come on."

No. I take that fun fact back. I am most certainly not his younger clone, nor will I ever be. Sure, I'm bitter towards people I've just met and tend to be antisocial during social gatherings, but I'm not heartless. Which is what Bruce is.

"Dude. Richard. Why are you standing in front of your door talking to yourself?"

I shot my head to the side to glare at the person who has just invaded my personal space. A flash of shocking red hair and goofy grin was all it took for me to identify my long time best friend: Wally West.

To be honest, I never expected our friendship to last this long. We tended to get on each other's nerves almost all the time and we didn't hang out as much as when we were kids in high school. But still – it wouldn't hurt to have a friend even if said friend was Wally West.

"Um, I know you're not gay but could you stop staring at me?"

I snapped out, shaking my head. I frowned. "What do you want, Wally? I'm not exactly in a good mood today."

"Who isn't? It's Monday morning so _come on_, get over yourself," my 'best' friend scoffed.

"Not everyone had to speed through a red light to get to this damned building for a meeting scheduled for seven o' clock _on the top floor_ with people coming in and coming out of the stupid elevator pissing me off to the max and getting me worried about dying young, JUST SO I CAN GET HERE _ON TIME _FOR A GODDAMNED MEETING THAT _ISN'T DUE_ FOR ANOTHER **_HALF HOUR_**."

Anyone could tell I was livid. _Very_ livid. So if they were any normal person, they would back away immediately. Unfortunately, when your name is Richard Grayson and you are the heir to the fortune at Wayne Enterprises, you make friends with people with the name of Wally West who is anything _but_ normal.

I had to resist the urge to head bang myself on my door when Wally spoke again. "Geez, man. That's harsh and all but people go through red lights everyday."

"Wally?"

"Yeah?"

"You suck at compassion."

The redhead only rolled his eyes before turning to look at me. "Says the guy who wears shades indoors. I mean, who does that?"

"Me."

He snorted. "Yeah, well, you look stupid but, of course, everyone is gonna think otherwise. 'Oh, Richard Grayson, you look_ so_ mysterious! Please, come fu—'"

I put my hand on his mouth to tell him I got the idea. "You know, faux soprano sounds good on you."

"Thanks, that was actually me imitating Jinny," he threw in an aloof smirk, emerald eyes glistening.

I shook my head smiling. "You should just go ahead and propose already. There's only a miniscule possibility she'll say no."

"Don't _jinx_ it," he closed his eyes tight and spat into the flowerpot behind him saying, "Kenahora" repeatedly, like a mantra. It took him a few moments to calm down but when he finally did, he grinned all-knowingly.

I raised an eyebrow. "Dude, what just happened?"

Wally checked his watch and frowned. "I'll explain later, Dick. I gotta run. See you later!" And just like that, I was alone.

I sighed as I entered my office at last. It wasn't as big as Bruce's. The view was only mediocre. And there was hardly anything to do but do paperwork and sit in front of my desk. Said desk wasn't the least bit interesting either. All I had on it was a picture of my parents when they were alive and very much in love; a pot of pens and pencils; a silver lamp; my helmet; some books and bits of paper; unsigned contracts and the lot. To my left, two tall shelves encased all my mystery novels, which I only read if I'm desperate to do something with my life. At the moment, I'm too pissed to think.

After half an hour of brooding and depressing thoughts, I heard a knock resound through the room. I got up and sighed, opening the door to reveal none other than Bruce himself – with a frown etched on his face.

"I take the meeting is in place?" There was no hiding the undertones behind my question. Bruce only narrowed his piercing blue-grey eyes at me.

"Yes," he nodded curtly. "But since I can still sense your obvious distress over the matter in the morning, I will excuse your tardiness."

"Tardiness to something that didn't exist yet," I muttered under my breath. Thankfully, Bruce didn't hear (or chose to ignore it) and walked away into the meeting room.

Like the obedient puppy I was, I followed him inside.

* * *

Auspiciously, the meeting didn't last as long as I had expected it to be and I was out in no time. The only bad side to this was that I didn't have anything to do until lunch break where I normally went out with Wally to the arcade or to some random café.

Nonetheless, the remaining hours until noon passed by slowly. I was ready to sink into my angst-y hole of a brain when the alarm on my phone signaled it was time to kick butt.

I hurried out of my office, clutching my helmet as I headed towards Wally's cubicle. Some of the employees greeted me politely as I walked into Wally's division. Of course, being the respectable heir that I am, I politely responded.

Wally's cubicle was normal and dull from the outside, but inside the walls were painted with several posters of some speedster in a comic book. I think he said his name was 'The Flash' or something. Anyway, first thing I noticed, Wally wasn't there. This was weird because he would normally wait here for me so we can go and get lunch. It was by this time I saw the note stuck to his computer screen.

_Hey, Dick._

_Sorry about ditching lunch bonding time but I got something serious to do today. I'll see you tomorrow and we'll kick butt in Mortal Kombat first thing. How's that?_

_Signed: Wally West._

Well, this sucks. I have officially no source of entertainment for the whole day of work. I officially despise Mondays.

Leaving the note where it was, I took the elevator down to the parking lot and recognized my Ninja in all its sleek and shiny glory. I fetched my keys from the guy in uniform and set to go somewhere where I can be at peace. Sure, I had no one to go with but that didn't stop me before. It just sucked because it was a Monday and Wally rarely ditched our lunch bonding time over work.

It was then I decided to just walk around the city until I got bored and head back. So, with heightened dignity, I parked my Ninja somewhere legal and shoved my abnormally large helmet into my abnormally large messenger bag. I walked with my hands in my trouser pockets.

I guess it took being bored out of my mind to finally relish in the urban scenery of Jump City. It wasn't at all dark like Gotham. Come to think of it, Jump seemed to be the polar opposite. Everyone was so lively, they kinda blinded me with their happiness radiating at a hundred miles per hour.

I turned a sharp left off Nevermore Avenue. I'd never been to this part of town before. I always gave the excuse that I couldn't afford to be seen somewhere so gloomy. The media would have a field day. 'Richard Grayson – dealing with drugs?' Yeah. Bruce would have my head if I tarnished even a little of Wayne's reputation.

But even that fact didn't turn me away from the fact that I was hungry. I twisted my head to look for some sort of eligible eatery but only found some rundown building marked 'Café Devenir'. Now I know my French lessons did me some good when I deduced the meaning of the name. I chuckled at the cheesiness as I walked down towards the entrance.

The café didn't look like a café at all, at least not from the outside. The walls were painted a childish yellow; the roof was a vibrant red. More than anything, it looked like some kids' playhouse. The door was just ordinary wood. I peered into a large window and saw only blue. Damn, the windows were tinted. How could I be sure that I'm not walking into some strip club?

I sighed in exasperation as I told myself that I might as well just take the chance for my grumbling stomach. Besides, strip clubs have food, right?

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**A/N: OK, this is my first Teen Titans fic. I've been getting the RobStar feels recently and decided to make a story of them with BBRae and CyBee (and other minor characters). I've finished writing up the whole draft so if you have any suggestions for improvements, please leave a kind review. If not, please leave a kind review anyway if you have the time. I will be updating regularly although since I am entering a busy year in my school career, some events will delay chapters. In any case, I hope you enjoy this story and have a nice day/afternoon/evening. :)**

**If anyone's wondering (which I doubt), I tried my hand on this 'Book Cover Image' thing and made the cover. It's pretty crappy since I can't draw as well as other artists but whatever.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or the setting. I only own the voice that which I gave them life in this story. :)**

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**Café Devenir**

_"There is something terribly morbid in the modern sympathy with pain. One should sympathise with the colour, the beauty, the joy of life. The less said about life's sores the better."_

_-__Oscar Wilde_

_**Chapter Two**_

* * *

_**I was happy to call our meeting as a happy coincidence...but even I know when change makes itself known.**_

Well, at least the place was godforsaken. I could only see four people in the entire cafeteria. Said four people didn't even notice me coming in. What a bunch of antisocial weirdos. But I guess it takes one to know one.

I checked my shades were in place and walked up to the counter. The inside wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. To be honest, it actually looked pretty. The walls were a pastel yellow, a bit lighter than the paint outside. The ceiling was ebon black with white pinpricks of paint made to resemble stars. I craned my neck to look at it all. The effect was surreal. It was like I was staring into space itself.

There were also picture frames surrounding the walls. Most of the photographs were insignificant to me but I could tell those four people I saw weren't just strangers to each other. The floor was a shiny wood – still not as extravagant as the Hard Rock Café – but I don't think extravagance was the point. It was magically simplistic: just what I needed to get away from the grey-scale of business life.

I frowned when I noticed nobody was behind the counter. I looked at the glass case containing pastries instead. I found myself scrunching my nose when I saw 'Tofu Cake' listed for $5.50. Who would want to eat tofu cake?

"Hey, dude," a squeaky voice cut in. I scrutinised the guy at the counter, recalling him to be one of the four people sitting down when I came in. "Sorry I didn't see you come in, you shoulda let me know." He grinned in an effort to start a conversation.

I noted his dark green hair and dark green eyes kindled with a sort of childlike innocence. He seemed to be around my age, though. Maybe a tad bit younger. "Uh, hi. I just wanted to see your menu," I began nervously. I don't really take well in introducing myself to strangers. Bruce normally did all that whenever we had to.

The guy just continued to grin and I finally caught sight of his nametag pinned to the left side of his chest. Apparently, he's called Garfield Logan. "Sorry, dude but me and Cy never really got 'round to making one. Nobody ever comes here apart from them three over there and me." He jerked a thumb to the side, indicating the rest of the group.

"Right, so…what cakes do you have?" I found myself asking. I could have left right then and there and never looked back, but something drew me to this café and I felt like it was a secret that was unique to just the five of us. Even though the rest of the four were complete strangers to me.

Garfield broke my train of thought once more when he said, "We have the usual café blah. Cy can cook up anything, really." Then he began to recite the many cakes they had in store.

I interrupted to say I'd just have two chocolate éclairs and one black forest cake with a cup of latte. This amounted to $15.00, which is kind of cheap for a café to say the least. But I kind of figured since only four people came here regularly, they'd need to step down on the pricing a bit.

I paid him in cash, adding in an extra twenty 'cause I felt generous. Garfield was excited by this and started rambling about getting a new moped.

"You can sit down anywhere you like, dude. Cy will get your order in about ten minutes."

_Ten minutes_? I don't wait ten minutes for a cup of coffee and three measly deserts for lunch! I'd rather go to McDonald's for a combo and that would only take two. Come to think of it, why hadn't I just walked out of this place already? Oh yeah. Because it's _mysterious._ What dick came up with that?

Double oh. This Dick Grayson.

I relaxed in the cushioned red seat next to the blue tinted windows. If it weren't for the yellow walls, this place would've looked as if it were forever nighttime. I tilted my head upwards to stare at the ceiling again. Whoever did this did a remarkable job. Maybe I'll hire them to do _my_ ceiling at Wayne Manor.

I didn't realize ten minutes had passed until Garfield came in and placed my order in front of me. He wiped his hands on his cream apron and toothily grinned. "Like it? It was a labor of love to us from the beautiful Kory on her fourth visit. Pretty cool, huh? The windows were Rae's idea. Said the walls were bright enough for her to read."

I had no idea who Kory and Rae were but they sure sounded interesting. Especially Kory because she was the one who painted the ceiling. I nodded to answer Garfield's questions, now looking down at my food hungrily. He must've noticed because he laughed loudly.

"I'll leave you to your food, then. If you need any help, that's what being a waiter is for," he winked mischievously.

"Thanks, Garfield," I said, digging in to the first chocolate éclair.

He shook his head. "It's just 'Gar'. Maybe I should just change my nametag or something."

I chuckled. "Maybe." He strutted back to his table before he and I could say anything else and I was happy to be left alone to eat my lunch. I glanced at my watch. What little time I had before I got back to signing papers. Woe is he who is the son of Bruce Wayne, I concluded.

When I finished my so-called lunch, I got up and started to leave when Gar bounded up to me saying he wanted to introduce me to his friends. Well, what would be the polite way out of it? 'Not interested'? That's just for angst-ridden Final Fantasy 7 blonds. You know who else is angst ridden? Actually, don't answer the question.

I pushed my seat in and followed him reluctantly. Their table wasn't far considering it was a small café. Gar stopped in front of them and waved his hands towards me, grinning.

"Hey, dudes. This is the new guy," he said. Great intro, I rolled my eyes.

"Well, what's his name?" said a girl with pale skin and purple hair. She was currently clutching a thick tome with her black-painted fingernails.

"I'm…" I drift off. How would they react if I said were Richard Grayson? They'd overreact, that's for sure, and maybe they'll tell the media that I had visited and ate at their lowly but magnificent café. They'd only use me for publicity, which I do not take kindly to. I cleared my throat. "I'm John Pennyworth. Pleasure to meet you." I titled my glasses as a handshake.

I stared at all of them in turn. The girl who asked for my name was sitting to the right; an empty space beside her, which I guessed, was for Gar. To the front left, a burly dark-skinned man nodded at me in greeting and I spotted that his left eye was glowing red – a cybernetic eye, I presumed. _Wonder how he got that._

Then I realized this must be the cook. I told him I liked his éclairs and he said it wasn't a problem. I moved on.

And I was glad I did because staring out the window was the most forlorn-looking but drop-dead gorgeous redhead in the entire universe. I swear I'm not exaggerating.

I couldn't see her face much because it was facing the window and her eyes were gazing far into space, but the way her hair flowed down her back like _fire,_ the healthy glow of her skin, and coupled with the fact that she had a body girls would die for, I didn't need to look at her face to tell me she was beautiful.

But when she did, my _God_ I felt like I'd been sucker punched a million times.

I couldn't breathe when her vibrant viridian eyes tried to search for my measly blue ones behind the shades.

I melted into a pool of mush when she finally acknowledged me with an earth-shattering smile. The way her eyes lit up made me swoon inwardly and her dimples made it even more breathtaking to watch her perform a simple action.

All this must've lasted for a split second because if we continued to stare at each other, we'd look weird.

"Hello, my name is Kory," she said sweetly, with a slight accent. The sultry tone was like velvet to my ears. I said I swear I'm not exaggerating.

"I-I uh, I'm-I'm, uh," I stuttered uncontrollably. God, she must think I'm a blubbering idiot. If I had said I was Richard and began to blubber like this, I would kill myself. Thankfully, Gar stepped in.

"John likes your ceiling, Kor," he squeaked. The purple-haired girl glanced at me pointedly, like she was searching for a hidden truth. It chilled me, but I ignored it.

"Thank you, John. I appreciate your praise," the Kory replied.

I smiled nervously at her and made a show with my watch that my lunch break just ended and I needed to go or else my boss will kill me.

They said it was fine and did the usual round of how it was nice to meet me and so on before I exited the building and breathed in air.

It hit me like a rock to my stomach. I wanted to get to know Kory, but how could I do that if I kept being nervous around her? She might get the wrong idea, or worse, laugh at my idiocy. It was time to get out the age-old _Bruce's Guide to Women _handbook from the library.

* * *

I returned to work feeling awfully exhausted. For the rest of the afternoon, all I thought about were KoryKory_Kory_ and that small but amazing café and why Wally was being a jerk by calling me every five minutes.

I answered on the third ring. I didn't even get a chance to greet him when he burst into a scream that deafened my right ear and so I had to move the phone to my left, at a fair distance.

"Dick, dude, Richard. Dick, dude, Richard. Dick, dude, Richa—"

"What is it, Wally? First you leave me to get lunch all by myself," but in doing so I got to meet a goddess, "_then_ you call me up when I'm in my zone?" That's a lie, but I can't just straight up and say I was annoyed with him. I'm Dick Grayson the Gentleman, that's who I am.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry, but _ya gotta listen to me, _man," he spoke hurriedly. I rolled my freaking eyes.

"Okay. So. This is all in good cause, Rich," I doubt it, but keep going, I have work to do, "So I was doing this errand Earle sent me on and I couldn't wait until lunch to spend it with you in the arcade, I swear I didn't mean to ditch you, when _BAM!_ I ran into this gorgeous blonde beauty. I helped pick her papers up, of course, but then she suddenly _blew me off_ in front of Earle and another colleague who had seen what happened."

"Wal, I have no idea what the point of all this is."

"_I'm getting to it_! Sheesh, man, let me finish. So. Said blonde continued to yell her beautiful head off at me until Earle stepped in and said to break it up and she shut her mouth and apologized. _Then_ I asked her if she wanted to go out for lunch and she said, 'I would _love_ to have coffee with _you_, Wally' so I made you a note and made out with this chick. The End." I could hear him take a deep breath from the other line.

"Wally," I said calmly, "do you even know her name?"

"Yeah, it's…um…" I was ready to smack my head on the table, "…it's…it's Artemis! Yeah! That's her name. Boom! Artemis Crock. Pretty name, if ya ask me."

The name sparked some familiarity… "Hold on. Wasn't she the girl who bitched on you when you got drunk in the office? You were pretty pissed at her then," I told him. I didn't care that I was a man who just said 'bitched' like a bitch.

"Aw, hey, man, that's all in the past. Besides. Hot girl. Coffee. With _me_," Wally dismissed.

"What about Jinny?" I asked skeptically. Jinny may look weak and all but if there's anything to watch out for, it's her rage mode.

"Jinny? Who's – Oh, _shit_ **_fuck_**. I made out with a girl while I was dating Jinny. FUCK!" He hung up.

I'll leave him to sort out his problems. I wasn't too inclined to get myself involved with drama, especially if an enraged Jinny was involved. Although I would love to see Wally get castrated in front of the entire world.

Which brings me back to the thought that I just saw the most beautiful girl in said world.

Apparently it was painfully obvious I was having a wet daydream about a girl when I got home and Alfred asked if I met one. I turned as red as a robin's breast – mm…_breasts_ – and he just laughed it off. Like he never fantasized about girls. I bet he drools over that old lady across the road.

I walked straight to my room embarrassed, and a little too obsessed with keeping the image of her eyes and her smile burning in my head. I could hear her voice repeating over and over again like a broken but awesome record. _"Hi, my name is Kory." "Thank you, John. I appreciate your praise." "Hi, my name is Kory." "Thank you, John. I appreciate your praise." _Kory. Hell, I didn't even get her last name.

I laid on my bed staring at my barren ceiling for the rest of the afternoon, only getting up to shower and change, then go downstairs for another of Alfred's whooping dishes. He told me Bruce was going to be home soon and I better snap out of my daze before he teases me about the new tenant of my dreams.

Unfortunately I was too late in getting my act together when Bruce walked in seeing my flushed face staring at the kitchen ceiling. He smirked as he walked in, taking his coat off and placing it on the rack. "Nice lunch, Dick?" he said and he sat himself down for dinner.

I glared at him, still angry at the incident this morning. "Like you would care."

He frowned. "I was only asking. If you need any advice—"

"I don't need any advice from the likes of you. I'm twenty-three, not fifteen," I cut in rudely.

Bruce dropped his glare and stared at me with a deadly calmness. "Very well. And if you do manage to bring her to this house, I might not give her the same courtesy as I did the countless bimbos before her."

"You're a hypocrite," I spat. "You think all the girls I date are bimbos when you can't even look at yourself in the mirror and say the exact same thing!"

I got up roughly, pushing my chair back with force and proceeding to sulk in my room for the rest of the night. I knew I shouldn't have shouted, or glared, or badmouthed him. He was only teasing and he always did that. Fathers did that all the time.

But I have to keep reminding myself that Bruce isn't my father and he'll never be close to being one.

My father is dead and he's rotting away in some cold grave because I didn't believe in heaven until I met Kory because she was practically heaven on earth. But that was only for two minutes and how can I _possibly_ have fallen madly in love with her at first sight when she probably thinks I look stupid wearing my shades indoors?

Except I didn't fall madly in love with her at first sight. I only looked at her face for two seconds before Gar stepped in and saved my stuttering ass. And those two seconds felt like eternity stretching into oblivion and I knew I could stare at her face for days and not get tired of it. It's so extremely cliché it makes me cringe.

Me, Richard Grayson, Prince of Gotham, falling for a stunning, emerald-eyed Jump City commoner who probably would either ditch me the second I tell her who I really was because I lied to her or cling to my arm because I had money. I found myself rooting for the former because anything's better than being used just 'cause you're rich.

I'll forget her in a few days. I'll be busy and won't even have the time of day to think about pretty women in secluded cafés on Nevermore Avenue.

My conscience was highly doubtful of this but it was with this thought that I finally lulled myself to sleep.

* * *

**A/N: Next chapter will be up in a few days. :) Review, please?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or the setting. I only own the voice that which I gave them life in this story. :)**

* * *

**Café Devenir**

_"Dreams are the touchstones of our character."_

_-__Henry David Thoreu_

_**Chapter Three**_

* * *

_**Today was the the day where all our lives became interweaved through what was supposed to be a simple case...**_

There's something immeasurably freaky about dreams. They haunt you every night when you close your eyes and you don't even know if what you're dreaming comes from your own head. When you need peace the most, you dream up nightmares and wake up all sweaty. When you look for resolve, the bad memories just keep flicking back to your mind to pester you.

So as I tossed myself side-to-side on my bed like a pancake, I dreamt of the past – of things I could have changed and could have prevented but always too late to do anything – and I watched myself fail countless of times, replaying the same scene over and over again.

Their screams will ring in my head for days. This part of my brain rarely surfaces at this time. I usually try to forget about them but end up remembering anyway. After years and years of pent-up remorse for my parents and myself, I've learned to accept that the fault was mine. Mine.

It was just at the part when mom screamed, "_Dick_!" with her pupils dilating in fear that I felt hyper aware of everything around me.

The cold sweat.

The trembling fingers.

The open window.

I bolted up, running my hands through my hair as if there was no tomorrow. My cheeks felt wet and dry at the same time and the tears just kept falling and falling.

Falling…

Falling…

I didn't realize I closed my eyes until the door opened with a creak and I screamed, "NO!" like my heart had been stabbed.

Raspy breathing. I dragged my knees to my chest and pressed my eyes to them. I could hear the window being closed and a candle being lit. A sudden weight added itself next to me and I felt cold hands pressing against my shoulders.

"Richard."

It was Bruce. How could I let him see me like this? I felt like a wimp. Worthless. Vulnerable. Why hadn't it been Alfred? At least _he_ wouldn't tell me to take it like a man.

"Stop shaking," his hands began to stiffen in an attempt to stop my trembling. But I was too scared to look at him, to see the disappointment in his expression. "It's going to be alright."

I calmed. He sounded like my real father. Dad would come in right after mom did and just sit with me while I cried after watching a horror movie with them. They would laugh it off and assure me it wasn't real and that it was okay to feel scared because that was the whole point of watching them.

"That's it. Let it out."

Then…then… they would sleep beside me until morning came and everything was happy again.

Bruce stood up and walked away, his footsteps loud and clear throughout the silent mansion. I wiped my eyes on the blanket and started berating myself for being such a crybaby. _Men don't cry_, I told myself. Then I wondered if Bruce has ever cried in his life. If Bruce never cried, then I shouldn't either.

No matter how much I hated admitting it, I looked up to him. He had been there. He saw mom and dad falling. He even paid for their funeral. I've always wondered _why_. I settled with the fact that I was young and he felt pity for me because I was alone and so was he. He's rich enough for the two of us plus Alfred.

The same footsteps came back and I looked up to see Bruce with a glass of water in his hand. I took it silently, gulping it all down and then setting it on the table beside me. I nodded towards Bruce's standing form. An unspoken truce was exchanged. He left without a word.

I was alone. I couldn't sleep – not after that – so I decided that staring at the candle flame until it burned out was the best way to relax. It helped a little, but within a few hours the flame died, and only then did I feel truly alone.

* * *

Bruce felt the necessity of waiting for me to get up. He was there at breakfast where we both thanked Alfred for the nice food. He was there at the garage where I took the Ninja and he took Lamborghini. He was there in the elevator.

If he thought staring at me and stalking me was the fatherly thing to do, then that's just creepy. I don't even want to think about what would happen if he got married. I shuddered at the mental image of Bruce's wife. Hold on…why was there a mental image in the first place? God, I'm so messed up.

We only parted ways once I reached my office and he went off to see Lucius. I unlocked the door and stepped inside, storing away my helmet and sitting down in front of the window.

When I said I had a mediocre view, I meant it. Bruce's window looked outwards to the beach and he can watch the sun and the water everyday. I can only see buildings and windows from out here. There was once the urge to become a voyeur, but that didn't go down well with the police _or_ the Jump City Herald. And a very pissed off Bruce. But this morning? I didn't feel like watching naked ladies get dressed.

I swiveled on my chair and dialed Wally's number. I leaned back, waiting for him to pick up.

"Good morning, this is Wally West of Wayne Enterprises, how may I help you, good sir or ma'am?" his voice answered. It sounded strained, like he'd been shouting the whole night. Maybe that was him screaming down at the beach yesterday.

"Hey, West," I greeted.

"Oh. Hey, Grayson," he monotonously replied.

"So what happened? Did she find out?"

He sighed. "No but she's suspicious."

"How? Was she there at the café?"

"Dude, if she were then she would have killed me by now."

Touché. "Well, how?"

He shuffled something. Papers, maybe. "You know how Jinny always kisses me 24/7 except when I'm at work?"

I grimaced at the mental pictures. "Uh, no, but okay?"

"Well, I had to find a gazillion excuses not to kiss her because she would have tasted Artemis instead," he groaned.

"Dude, how can she do that? That's freaky," I told him.

"Yeah but I find it sexy."

I pressed my lips into a tight frown. "Only you, Wally. Only you."

"Then I went down to the beach—"

"So it _was_ you," I chuckled.

"What, the screaming madman?" he snorted.

I laughed. "Yeah. Didn't know you could brood, but I guess you will always have to be vocal about everything."

"Dick?"

"Yeah?"

"You suck at compassion."

I smirked at the reference from earlier. "Says the guy who kissed a bitch while he was dating a hot pink-haired lady."

"Don't call my girlfriend hot!"

"Well, you did practically cheat on her."

"It was a one-time thing! Come _on_!"

"Yeah but when she finds out, she won't know that."

"Don't jinx it!"

There was a knock on the door. I exhaled. "Gotta go, Wally. I have been requested to grace the building with my presence."

"Aren't you already in the buil—?"

I hung up and walked over to the door. Twenty bucks if it's Bruce coming to stalk me again.

"Good morning, Mr. Grayson. We require your assistance," a man clad in black and white uniform spoke. I cursed and paid my brain twenty bucks. "What was that?"

I grinned nervously. "Uh, nothing, sir. What can I do to assist you?"

The officer nodded and said, "We heard you did a degree on forensics?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "But so have other people who have more time. Why me?"

He pointed inside and I got the message. I beckoned him to the soft chair in front of my desk and sat down in front. "I'm sorry if this will distract you from your work but your father has approved of letting you have some time off for this case. Even recommended your skills."

I gulped. Bruce? _Bruce_ wanted me to take time off for a case? If this was all about making me feel better last night, I might have to cry more. "Very well," I managed to say. "Why me? Apart from the recommendation, of course."

"First, my name is Detective Tim Drake, it's a pleasure to work with you, Mr. Grayson," he stuck his hand out.

I took it cautiously and shook it. "It's Richard."

Drake nodded. "Duly noted." He paused. "We researched a lot of guys who we wanted to recruit for the job but most of them turned it down whilst some were completely unsuited. Then we did a rundown on top students who have done a crash course or a degree on forensics and detective work. Two hundred were in the right age group and within the area. We scouted for recruits but they were either too busy, too indifferent, or not smart at all."

Well, not gonna lie here. I _was _the top graduate at Gotham University and I _did_ kick ass during a crash course detective training. Sparring with Bruce for anger management did me good, I guess. Still, I don't see where the point of this is going. Why me for the case? If it was so important, why limit the search to Jump City?

"We then came across your name and your record certainly impressed us, Richard," he grinned. "21 awards in prestigious information communication technology competitions during high school, another 5 medals for top-dog martial arts tournaments, and you helped solve a difficult case two years ago. Remember Slade Wilson?"

I remember that guy _very_ well. He was tough to crack, it took more than cookies to get me to join the darkside. But I shouldn't be listening to this guy dishing out my awards and stuff. Just get straight to the point.

He must've sensed this. "So we found our guy. We asked Mr. Wayne if you were free for six months and he said yes. I've got the case files with me. Want to take a look?"

He slid the papers forward to my desk. I opened them carefully; I was extremely curious about this case they were desperate to find the right person for. Once I flipped over the cover, I was greeted with the picture of a dark silhouette taken near the docks. It was a woman with long hair and – shh …a _great_ body – and a considerable height. I read her file.

_Name: Unknown._

_Age: Deduced to be in mid-twenties._

What was a young lady like her doing in a special case file like this? I turned over and saw the evidence packet. It didn't seem too full.

I faced the detective. "I'm guessing you haven't had much luck chasing down this girl?"

Drake shook his head. "It's not the girl we're looking for at the moment. It's the guy on the other page. To cut to the chase, no pun intended, this guy is in need of serious protection _from_ that girl."

I knew I sounded stupid but I asked him why instead of reading the file.

"This girl," Drake sighed, "is the leader of a small but notorious gang that's recently migrated to Jump. Their origins, the number of members, or their motive is unknown but I've deduced that _she's_ the leader and she's hunting down that guy." He pointed to the picture of a young man in his late teens. He had vibrant red hair similar to Kory's but his eyes were jaded. From the picture, I could tell he was well built. "We found this picture after investigating the attempted murder of…"

I started to drift off at this point. It's early in the morning and I'm already thinking about murder and crime. And that dream from the other night wasn't helping. Curse you, Bruce.

"You listenin'?" Drake suddenly snapped.

I flinched. "Uh, y-yeah. The attempted murder of…of…"

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Never mind. Are you in on the case or what?"

I might as well get this over with. Agreeing to work with him, I got handed a miniscule black communicator for when it was necessary to go undercover and a copy of the files he showed me. Apparently, my new undercover name was 'Nightwing'. Don't ask me why.

He left soon after and I stormed into Bruce's office. He was currently on the phone but who cares? It's my turn to make his life hell.

I slammed the door and he quickly signed off of the phone. Putting it down, he quirked an eyebrow at my hidden glare. 'Cause yeah, I'm still wearing my shades.

"Did Tim brief you in on the case?" said Bruce.

I furrowed my eyebrows. "…What? You're in on it too?"

Bruce rolled his eyes. "Geez, Dick, didn't he tell you anything? Have you read the file?"

"No, soon after he left I went to go and piss you off and when he was talking I got depressed," I snarled.

He leaned forward and spoke in a deathly soft tone. "This case, I owe to a friend. Now get your ass out my office."

I complied and went back to mine. What did he mean by 'owe'? Bruce never subjected to favors or blackmail. And bribery only made him laugh.

I then realized that I didn't know Bruce at all. Well, who did? All anyone knew of him was that he liked sex and money. I'm even his adopted son and yet he's never taken the time to bond with me. That thing last night was one of our rare 'moments'. All we ever did was argue all the time.

I've got three people to investigate now. First comes Bruce because, well, I live with him and he'll probably be easy since I know about his habits.

Second is that guy who needs protection (uh…). It's now my job to track him down and take care of him and I need to do that before that girl attempts to murder him. Or, in the worst-case scenario, _murder_ him.

Third: Kory. It was obvious with the way she was staring at the window that she had an interesting past. I want to get closer to her, to be someone she can rely on, and maybe to be able to trust her with my secrets as well. She was _very_ intriguing.

My phone rang. Let's just hope Wally's there this time and not sucking face with Artemis Crock.

* * *

I caught sight of Wally leaving his cubicle and felt pity for him immediately. There were visible bags under his eyes and he was dragging his feat against the navy carpet. "Oh, man, I feel for you," I said, trying to sympathize.

"No you don't," he quipped. "You don't have a sexy paranoid girlfriend."

"Touché," I smiled. "Lunch bonding time?"

His eyes lit up considerably. "To the arcade!"

"Yeah, yeah, are we taking the Ninja?"

"Um, _duh_. We're not gonna take my slow-ass piece of junk," he rolled his eyes. "The Ninja has _speed_, dude! I'm jealous!"

I chuckled. "Fine. Let's go."

We rode down the elevator and I mounted the Ninja. "Oh, man you are so cool. I feel like we're having a threesome with your bike," he joked.

"Glad you're having fun," I said sarcastically. "You're sitting at the back."

"WHAT?" he screamed. "I don't wanna hold on to your scrawny waist! I'm not _gay_. Can't I drive the Ninja for once?"

I shook my head. "It's either behind me or your slow-ass piece of junk. The choice is yours."

His face darkened as he growled. "Fine." He mounted behind me. "Do I need to wear a helmet too?" he grumbled bitterly.

"Nope. I've only got one and I left it at the office." I turned the engine on and felt the bike vibrate. "This is gonna be fast."

"Like I don't know shit about the Ninja. I've had wet dreams about this, dude. I swear—"

We sped off and all I could hear was Wally screaming like a rabid fan girl in my ear. I winced but I could feel what he's feeling. It was the one I had when I first did a test drive of this beast.

The wind hit my face hard and I laughed maniacally. Apart from jumping across buildings at night and anger management with Bruce, this was when I could really let go of myself.

The moment was short-lived when we slowed down for the red light – much to Wally's dismay. He was still hyperventilating. "Dick, man. You gotta get me one of these for my birthday."

"You should've asked for that a month ago!" I retorted. "Your birthday was last month, retard."

"_Yeah_, I was talking about Christmas, Dick," he laughed.

"That's not your birthday. That's Jesus'. Don't steal."

Before he could reply, I sped up again. In two minutes we reached the arcade. The people gawked at our wrinkled suits and messed up hair and even recognized my ensemble as Richard Grayson's uniform. But all Wally and I really cared about was getting to play Mortal Kombat or the newest Burnout Dominator. Not what the stupid media thought about Richard Grayson's new look. Although Bruce is gonna have a field day.

"Haha! I'm _so_ gonna hand you your ass on a silver platter!" Wally taunted as he sat himself down inside the _Need for Speed_ booth.

"Not this time, Kid Flash." I flung myself in after him. "You're the challenger. You pay."

Wally moaned but put in a couple of coins obediently. "It's _on_, Robin!"

Wally = Kid Flash. Need I say more? He's a beast in any game that relates to speed. He's known on high-score boards as 'Kid Flash' after his favorite comic book hero, just with 'Kid' stuck in front.

Robin? That came from a book my mom gave me for my twelfth birthday - the year they died. That was the age I met Wally and started playing video games. The name just stuck 'cause he was pretty much my hero at the time.

But enough of that. Wally was currently overtaking my car. "Damn you!" I yelled, which got a few looks from bystanders. "Ha!" I swerved and did a drift and caught Wally off-guard.

"Hey, man, you suck," Wally whined.

"No I don't!" This distracted me from a second drift, which caused the redhead to take advantage. "Grr…"

Wally crossed the finish line and he stood up to celebrate but hit his head on the roof of the booth. "Ow…" he groaned, roughing his hair. I chuckled at his misery. "I still beat you!"

"John, is that you?" a familiar squeaky voice entered our hearing. Wally put up a questioning brow.

"I told him my name's John Pennyworth. You know, to be safe," I whispered quickly. Wally nodded in understanding. I turned to the approaching figure. "Hey, Gar."

The green-haired boy grinned his usual grin. "_Hey_, dude! Didn't expect to see you in the arcade."

"Why aren't you at the café?" I asked. Was Kory there?

"Today was a slow day," he shrugged. "Cy's here with me but Kory and Rae didn't show up." I felt slightly disappointed by that fact but didn't let it show on my face.

"That's cool," I said.

Wally shook my shoulder. "Want some lunch? My stomach is bitchin'." As if on cue, we heard his stomach grumble loudly. "Told ya."

Gar glanced at the screen of the booth. The high-score board was still on. His eyes widened. "Holy invisible man, Batman! It should be a crime to get that score! Dude, you're so hardcore!"

"Thanks," Wally gloated. Always the man for attention, Wally West continued to boast about all his off-the-wall achievements.

"Wait, _you're_ Kid Flash?" Gar squealed. "I thought he was just a geeky teenager on steroids!" He glanced at me. "What's _your_ scoreboard name?"

"Robin," I answered with a shrug.

"Oh em gee, you two are gaming legends!" I swear by the looks of things, this boy was about to die in front of us. "Bet you can't guess who me and Cy are."

By the tone of his voice, I guess they were also well known in the gaming universe. The only names I could think of were Beast Boy and Cyborg. Next to Kid Flash and Robin, they were the next duo to get high scores on a lot of boards. "I'm guessing you're Beast Boy and Cy is Cyborg?"

He was slack jawed. "How'd you know? Are you psychic?"

"Nope, just smart," I smirked. Wally scoffed beside me. "Listen, Gar, me and Wally are heading out for lunch. Wanna come?" Now that was a weird moment. Me, Richard Grayson, being social? _And_ the one to coerce it?

Gar shook his head apologetically. "We need to head back to the café soon anyway. I doubt a lot of shops serve tofu or non-animal-related products."

Wally made a face. "You're a vegan? How do you live?"

Gar chuckled. "Tofu is awesome! Besides, when we were dissecting frogs in high school I puked all over the floor. How's that for experience?"

"Fair enough," Wally sighed. "Dick, let's go."

My eyes widened. Thankfully I had my shades. Gar picked up slowly, though. I had time to glare at Wally for his slip-up. "Who's Dick? I thought your name was John," Gar raised an eyebrow.

Wally chuckled nervously. "I call him Dick 'cause he is one." I clenched my teeth.

"That makes sense." I gaped. "I'll see you later, Robin, Kid Flash." Then he disappeared into the arcade.

"Wally West, I'm going to tell Jinny you cheated on her," I said seriously.

"Nono_nononono__**nonononNO**_, man. _PLEASE_. Okay, I slipped up. What's the big deal anyway? Everyone knows you're Dick Grayson around here," Wally pleaded. I could tell he was really sensitive about his relationship.

I sighed. "_He_ doesn't. I went to their café yesterday after you ditched me on account of betraying your fidelity. I ate some pretty good black forest cake and he's the waiter who introduced me to the most beautiful girl in the world." Um. I can't believe I just said that. Face-palm commencing.

"Ooh, new hot chick?" Wally wiggled his eyebrows, and then remembered I just threatened to spill his secrets. "I'm sorry, Richard. I'll remember next time. Scout's honor!" He held up three fingers, his bottom lip jutting out into a pout.

I glared but I told him I wouldn't. He bro-hugged me afterwards.

"Let's get some lunch," I finally conceded.

* * *

**A/N: I found a story theme song! :D Also, next chapter will be in a few days again and will feature more BBRae. The RobStar thing will be slow because I wanted their love to seem real and not rushed like I've read in other fics of them. Taking note of the fact that Dick/Robin is just a socially awkward guy who gets nervous around hot 'n' sexy redheads like Kory, I don't think you'll hear him say 'I love you' any time soon. **

**And please take note that the CyBee was removed from the summary. It's not that they're not in the story anymore, but every time I read the summary, I just expect that they're going to have a big role. They do (individually, though), I promise. But their _relationship_ has been written like Kid Flash/Jinx: 'In the background'. Sorry if you were expecting major CyBee action. I just couldn't and didn't commit to more than two main pairings a story.**

**If you read all that, I congratulate you. Please leave a kind review and have a great day/afternoon/evening. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, just Cafe Devenir itself.**

* * *

**Café Devenir**

_"There's the people you've known forever. Who like...know you...in this way. That other people can't. Because they've seen you change. They've let you change."_

_-Angela, My So-Called Life_

_**Chapter Four**_

* * *

_**It's amazing how one memory could link two people in the strongest way possible...**_

I had one more meeting until lunch break. The dream hadn't come to haunt me last night so I felt a little better riding to work this morning. Unfortunately, this prompted Bruce to snap out of his 'being a father' phase and he restarted the teasing. So much for our bonding time. At least he's not stalking me anymore.

Kory's almost disappeared off my mind. I could still remember her smile and her fire red hair and jeweled eyes – okay, maybe not _completely_ off my mind – but I couldn't remember what she said to me, and most of her face was just blank. I actually wondered if I could see her again. Would she be at the café if I visited? Or would it be one of its slow days instead?

I collected my thoughts as the meeting began. The man who stood up was Earle. He was in his late forties with a thinning head and a fat smile. He tried to sabotage Wayne Enterprises a few years back and Bruce got mad. He _almost_ fired him (which came as a surprise when Alfred told me he didn't) but then realized that all he needed to do was scare Earle and he'd be down on his knees begging for mercy.

Harsh, I know. But that's Bruce for you. He put Lucius Fox in his place, and now Fox runs the entire business – with Bruce just claiming ownership. And me? I'm the heir who still has to listen to antique robots with minds made of money.

Suddenly, a rather childish ringtone cut through the air. Everyone looked pointedly at each other, looking for the culprit. I found myself staring at Bruce, who was staring back at me. What kind of imbecile would have a 'Nananananananana…BATMAN!' ringtone and forgot to silence his phone during a meeting?

I felt a tap on my shoulder. "Dick, you should really turn your phone off, or answer it if you must." I twisted my head in horror to see Lucius pointing at my flashing blazer pocket. I paled. Now everyone knew my ringtone. I felt so _humiliated_.

I ran out the room hastily, unlocked the phone, and growled. "What. Do. You. Freaking. Want."

"Hey, Richard!" the cheerful voice of my _best friend_ Wally came through. I grounded my teeth and clenched my fist. "I'm taking the day off today, just wanted to let you know. So I won't be there for lunch."

That's it? THAT WAS IT? "_And_?"

"And what? Nothing, that's all."

"Goodbye, Wally," I said calmly. "Prepare to meet your death."

"Hold on. You're not gonna tell Jin—"

I hung up abruptly and sauntered back to the meeting. All eyes were on me upon entering the room. Bruce was even holding back a giggle. I lowered my head as I sunk into my seat, listening on to the numbers being spewed out continuously for another forty-five minutes.

* * *

Once the meeting ended, I was the first to get out of the room so as to avoid peculiar questions regarding the level of my maturity and possibly my sexual orientation.

It was lunch, I was inexplicably tired, and Wally has ditched me for the second time in a week. I was starting to wonder whether this was where we parted ways. I don't know. Me and him? We always used to stick to each other like glue – even when I pushed him away, being the sorry 'woe-is-me' piece of shit as a teenager. But I guessed friendships move on. You get your new ties, and forget about old knots. It's the _Ciiircle of Liiiiiiiife._

Ahem. Moving on. Since Wally wasn't here, I might as well visit the café. If I were lucky, I'd get to see Kory again. Trouble is: I never got along with Lady Luck. My Dad thought I would be the most fortunate person in the family. Mom even went so far as to name me their 'lucky charm'. She would jokingly brush her fingertips to my shoulder before a performance whispering, "Touch Dick" as she walked past me. I remembered. The night they died…she touched my shoulder as she always would, smiling that same comforting smile.

I saw the man cutting the ropes. I even made eye contact with him. I could have… No. Now was not the time to be reminiscing. All you needed to know was that mom depended on me to bring her luck that night. Nothing wrong would happen if she hadn't, but she still did and that struck me hard as anything. She depended on me. It's stupid to think a simple touch of the shoulder could save her…but that's the way I remembered things. And only I can decide how to cope.

It would never be healthy. Hell, would it even ever be _right_. Christ, I knew who I was the moment I left their graves and drove right up to Wayne Manor. I never doubted myself since. Well, that doubt has vanished.

Because Kory came into the picture.

* * *

Jump City could hit me with all their happiness a billion times stronger than usual, but it would never bring me back up from the depressing hole I've buried myself in. Not only was I completely humiliated by an inanimate object, but I was now painfully lost inside a maze I never took the time to study beforehand.

I never thought Jump City would be as big as Gotham. Boy, was I dead wrong in thinking that. Jump could be twice the size of Gotham, and brighter too. I remembered traveling here once with my parents while we were part of the circus. We weren't applauded as much in Gotham compared to here. Probably because we never got to finish the act there.

Ugh. I have got to stop letting them invade my mind. It's over. It was my fault. I admit it. Okay? Get out.

I turned to my left and entered the shop labeled 'Travel Info'. I've been on numerous run-ins with happy coincidences this week. Maybe Lady Luck's found a way to befriend me. Or mock me. Either way, I bought a map of the city and successfully located Nevermore Avenue.

Wayne Enterprises was just beside it. How come I never turned down that way?

I narrowed my eyes and walked forwards, pushing roughly past people and generally trying to make my way out of the on surging tide of people coming in my direction. Cars honked persistently at other cars. Men and children J-walked across dangerous roads. Neon traffic lights flashed. I was aware of everything.

Walking into peaceful alleys and avoiding the main crowd, I finally found my way into Nevermore Avenue. It struck me how the grey building to my right greatly resembled the building in front of my office.

Hold on. I twisted my head to study the building.

It was the exact same construction I had been staring at for the past two years. And guess what? The café was the next building on.

Good going, Grayson. You've been blind your whole life. Welcome to existence, Dick. Glad to have you on board, we've been trying to call you for two years but—

Shut up, brain, I'm trying to think.

If this was the same building in front of my office…and my office was on the top floor…

* * *

_There were no meetings today. I actually got Bruce off my back for more than five minutes. I should just tell him that I'm not a kid anymore. I graduated with honors, I've got the awards and the medals…I could handle myself fine. Why won't he just leave me alone?_

_I stopped in front of my new office. It was on the top floor, which meant Bruce was finally letting me free. I sure hope it's got a great view of the city. I wonder if it's the same as Bruce's office. Would it be bigger? Smaller?_

_I opened the door and stepped inside. _

_The floor was carpeted a navy blue; the walls painted a dull grey. It was empty, save for a desk and two barren shelves. I frowned. This sucked. Do I have to personalize everything? And to top it all off, the view completely failed at taking my breath away. What's a dumb building got to do with beautiful scenery?_

_I huffed and sat down on my seat. At least they gave me a swivel chair. Anything else would mean the whole office would get smashed to pieces._

_I stared out the window again. Man, why can't they just relocate this stupid—oooh…_

_I found my eyes glued to the window directly in front of me, from the opposite building. It showcased a lovely woman getting dressed ceremoniously in front of an open window. She probably thought no one – especially good-looking heirs to massive fortunes – would see her stark naked in front of a whole city. _

_Just wow. The way she moved was so hypnotizing. Such pale skin…such a great body…_

_A piercing scream cut through the air. I was snapped out of my trance when I saw her electric violet eyes locked on to mine. I stood up to run but tripped ungracefully on the swivel chair. I landed face first onto the navy carpet. Then I blacked out._

* * *

The next thing I knew, I was in a police station arguing with a very angry black-haired woman. She was only a year younger than me and apparently she was in her second year in college, learning the classics. She seemed calm and collected even when angry. Most girls I knew would shoot my head off the second they saw me looking at them naked without their permission. But most girls were most girls and clearly the woman wasn't one of them.

Luckily (oh, the irony), she didn't press any further charges and all I had to do was pay her a bit of money and I was free. Of course, I apologized to her, even gave her my phone number to contact me if she needed a favor, just so we could call it even one day. She never used it. It's probably been recycled into notebook paper and went on sale in WHSmith. Pretty nice life, if you ask me.

I still remembered her name though. I wondered if she still lived here. It wouldn't be unlikely she moved somewhere else in case of more voyeurs, but she seemed indifferent to it all after she argued her case and I apologized.

Rachel Roth. That was it.

I entered the café and waved at Gar who was sitting next to the purple-haired girl from before. She was reading a new book this time, so it seemed. I guessed Cy was in the kitchen because he wasn't anywhere to be seen, but I couldn't see any sign of Kory, which disappointed me because she was the only reason why I wanted to come here.

Gar stood up and asked for my order. I told him the exact same thing from last time and then sat on the table from before.

That was, before Gar came up to me and said I should go sit with Rae and him. I didn't have a problem with that (save the fact that I hated socializing) so I complied and was now sitting awkwardly in front of an unfazed 'Rae'.

Gar served me my plate ten minutes later. Cy came out of the kitchen and took the empty seat beside me.

"So, John, what have you been doing?" Gar casually asked.

I gulped. "Nothing much. Just paperwork and trying to not get my ass cooked by my boss." That was the normal thing to say, right?

"That's cool," he grinned. Cool? Way to be generic, Gar. "Oh yeah! I never introduced you to Rae, have I?"

The purple-haired girl smacked his head lightly with her book. "I think I can introduce myself, Garfield, and I told you not to call me that," she said coldly. Then she turned to me and familiar shocks ran down my spine as her electric violet eyes gazed past my shades. "My name's Rachel Roth, but this stupid kid calls me Rae."

Oh, shit.

Shit, shit, _shit. _

"Uh…John? Dude, are you okay?" Gar's voice became present in my mind.

I managed to gurgle out a yes before getting the cogs moving in my brain. If this was _the _Rachel Roth, then how does she not recognize me?

I know I've had a million haircuts in the past year and that could have changed her perspective on me, and I remembered this dare to dye it blond one summer courtesy of Wally. Or maybe…

It clicked. The first time I saw her at the café she had been trying to search past my shades. She was looking for my eyes, for some sort of familiarity within them. If I removed my glasses now, she would definitely kill me on the spot. I made a note of that.

"Dude?"

What? Oh. Yeah. I blinked. "Yeah?"

"Aren't you going to eat your food?" he asked, pointing at my plate. I nodded and he grinned, leaning back against the seat.

I watched him and Rachel – or 'Rae' as he called her – with interest. When Gar stared at her for long stretches of time, she would blush and hide her face with her hair. When Rachel hit him with her book, there was always this glint of triumph in Gar's eyes. Like he _wanted _her to hit him.

Christ, they were like an old married couple.

I smirked inwardly and bit into my éclair. I gulped it down before saying, "You guys dating?" in the calmest voice I could muster.

Rachel dropped her thick book on the table, her pale hands becoming pinker by the second. Her violet eyes became unfocused and a red tint was plastered on her cheeks.

Gar had a similar reaction except his jaw dropped and not his book. His green eyes widened considerably and I could see sweat running down his forehead. And was that drool dripping out his mouth?

I munched happily on, satisfied with their reactions.

Rachel narrowed her eyes at me, and then continued to read her book. Gar was the one who spoke.

"Why do you ask?"

Rachel almost choked. Her head lurched forward sharply but she caught herself in time. "What kind of question is that?" she hissed at Gar.

He put his hands in front of him defensively. "I was just wondering why he asked! Calm down, Rae."

She hit his biceps. "_Don't_ call me Rae. Only mom can do that."

My awareness of everything could identify the slight drop in harsh tones when she mentioned her mother.

Gar's own eyes softened. "Sorry, Rae—chel," he added quickly. "Haven't seen you in a while. You changed a lot."

Rachel glared. "You really want to talk about this in front of a stranger?"

"He's not a stranger anymore! I already introduced him to you guys! Besides, he's a regular now. Right, John?"

I nodded tentatively. I'm not the best keeper of promises.

"See?" Gar smiled. "He might as well join the club and be our friend, Brain."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "You will forever be a kid, Garfield. As much as I like that movie, you will never be a basket case. Ever." She returned to her book, wanting to ignore Gar's teasing for the rest of her lunch.

I finished my plate quickly to ask them about this 'club'.

"You like John Hughes?" said Gar.

I've heard of him…didn't he direct _Some Kind of Wonderful_? "I watched one movie of his, I guess," I replied.

Gar jumped up. "Well, he directed _The Breakfast Club_ which is totally Rae's favorite film of all time." He smiled, enthused. I noticed Rachel didn't reprimand him for the name this time.

I raised an eyebrow. "What are you getting at?" Okay, so what if Rachel liked _The Breakfast Club_? What was so special about it?

"We made our own version of it," Rachel, surprisingly, cut in to shed some light on the matter. "Initial thoughts about casting were me as the Basket Case and him as the Brain. I really didn't think he had one so we swapped roles."

Gar nodded in confirmation. "Cy – ahem, Vic – is the Jock, naturally, and Kory _was_ the Princess but she insisted on changing it to Criminal because she didn't feel like one." He shrugged and glanced at Rachel slyly. "Hey, Rae…" he began. Rachel glared in preparation. "Why don't we crash at your place for movie night?"

Rachel's immediate answer was: no. "You can't. I'm busy and it's in no shape or form to be acquainted with messy visitors. I don't know about you, _John_, but Gar here is the dirtiest pig alive."

I didn't doubt it for a second when I saw Rachel's stern stare. What I did doubt was the short – but existing – emphasis on my name. Or, at least, my fake name. Could it be she had me figured out? She never saw my eyes, though. It couldn't be possible. She was probably just trying to test my name out.

"Aw, come on, Rae! I bet Cy's place is messier than yours, and Kory won't let us in while her brother's staying with her! You _know_ my place is out of the question so that leaves either you or John and I don't think he wants people he's only met for a few hours in his house _and I really want to have a movie night soon_."

Rachel let out a strangulated growl. "…Fine."

"YESSSSSSS!" Gar cheered childishly. "Thanks, Rae, I love you!" I saw her stiffen as he scooted closer to wrap her shoulders in a tight hug. A blush painted across her cheeks when he pulled away.

"The things I do for you," she whispered, hoping she was inaudible to said boy.

Gar was completely oblivious to everything.

I smiled to myself.

Sometimes, I was completely oblivious too.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry this was delayed because of pressure in school. Also, BAD NEWS. The ONLY and I mean ONLY reason this chapter is out is because it was saved in my Doc Manager since Monday. I'm really really sad and pissed that I lost my USB which contained EVERY SINGLE chapter of this story (I didn't save on my comp because it was prone to crashing and viruses). So. Guys. I'll have to start this off from scratch ...starting on chapter four. This really pisses me off. **

**Next chapter I will try to get it by next Friday because Art and English Lit. are a pain in the ass. -_- Please review. They're probably the only things that will make me smile right now.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I disclaim ownership of characters. This chapter is dedicated to ****starwings22****, for simply being a great reviewer. :)**

* * *

**Café Devenir**

_"Lose something every day. Accept the fluster  
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.  
The art of losing isn't hard to master."_

_-Elizabeth Bishop, 'One Art'._

_**Chapter Five**_

* * *

_**Promises: they break before they're made. Sometimes, sometimes.**_

So…three days after the big revelation and I _still_ hadn't gotten over the fact that I've seen Rachel naked before. Goddamn it, I'm really loving my shades right now. I didn't care that Wally insulted them in front of my face. He's in his deathbed because I accidentally slipped it to Jinny two days ago of his mishap with Artemis Crock.

I swear it was accidental.

Well, even if it hadn't been an accident (which I swear it was!), Jinny was battering his ass like a piece of bread dough the last time I saw them. I didn't think she would take it that far, but it was nice to see your best friend getting beaten for all his wrongs. You didn't get to see that every day.

The movie night Gar promised was at the end of the week – which is in six days. Honestly, I could have suggested a better time but I had to get kick-started with that case Tim brought up for me. I still haven't read a single word of that document.

Speaking of the case… today was also the last day of "work" before my six-month leave to get on with it. Bruce was actually nonchalant about everything, which prompted me to garner suspicions of what his connection to case was. He said he owed it to a friend. But who? And why?

So. I sat on my desk and turned on the lamp. I checked the clock and saw that it was just past midnight: the perfect time to be reading about murder cases and whatnot. I flipped the cover over and stared at the attached pictures again.

Now that I looked back to it, this redheaded dude looked _a lot_ like Kory – but it took more than similarities in hair and physique to create a link between them. Besides, Kory's hair looked magically natural. He could have dyed his, and his real hair color could be brown. Or blond.

The document didn't say much about his personal details. They didn't record his name, which sucks big time, and they put down his age as '_roughly in his late teens_'. There was only a tiny paragraph underneath the photo explaining how they came about his appearance. It had been left at the scene of the attempted murder of—

_Holy shit_.

Holy…_Holy shit._

This was what Bruce was talking about. It wasn't just a friend he owed…it was a _partner_. They've been working together since he was my age, and I've even heard legends surrounding this pair. My Forensics class even mentioned a few cases they did back in the day.

There was no mistaking it. Bruce Wayne and James Gordon were heroes.

And his daughter Barbara had been shot through to the spine, disabling her from walking for the rest of her life. To make it worse, the "murderer" took some naked pictures of her and plastered them on her dad's wall. God, that man must've had the worst nightmares of his life. I mean, I know that would've scarred me more than the memory of broken bodies and blood. That's insane.

Only an insane madman would be heartless enough to do that.

Unfortunately, I had no experience with insane madmen. What Slade Wilson did didn't come close to what _this _maniac had done. Not even close.

I looked at the picture of the crimson-haired boy and that of the girl's silhouette. Why did she want him? Was she a crazy ex-girlfriend looking for revenge? Then what did Barbara's case have to do with it? Why was his picture just left on the scene?

It was two hours past midnight. I already gained fleeting images of the maniac's face – brief, disgusting imaginings of who I might confront in the near future.

I turned off the lamp and the darkness swallowed the room whole. I glanced at the barren ceiling and wondered when would I have the guts to talk to Kory about painting it. The stars at the café evoked so many emotions. Too many…too emotional…

An owl hooted outside. It was a single, harrowing hoot that shook my insides with apprehension. I ran a hand through my hair and shut my eyes tight.

Silence.

I clenched my jaw and climbed into bed, pulling the covers above my head until all I could see was black.

Like the heart of that malicious, sadistic joker.

* * *

My alarm clock beeped, but this time I didn't get up straight away. No, I was not _dead_; I think these words could vouch for that. I was exhausted from the night that passed only a few hours ago, from the haunting faces lingering in my brain - all of them blurred. I smelled Alfred's cooking. I guessed he took a liking to butter and bread this week. I preferred the bacon and eggs but anything Alfred cooked would always be perfect.

I didn't bother to spike my hair this morning as I usually did. My stomach became persistent and forced me to get downstairs as quickly as I could to replenish it. My bare feet slapped against the marble staircase and subconsciously led me straight into the kitchen.

When I lifted my head to greet Alfred, I stopped at the doorway, eyes unbelieving.

"B-Bruce?" I stammered, my jaw simultaneously dropping to the floor. Said man turned from the toaster to stare at me standing at the kitchen doorway in my robin bird PJ's, jaw slacked. He was wearing the 'I'm Worth Your Every Penny' apron that Alfred always wore. He's so stupid. You don't need a flippin' apron to toast bread. Christ.

He raised one sleek eyebrow. "Good morning, Dick," he said and retrieved a plate from the cupboards just above him to place the newly toasted bread onto it.

The fact that Bruce was in the kitchen making toast didn't surprise me at all.

It was _the fact_ that Bruce was making toast for breakfast, and Alfred wasn't doing the least bit to protest.

The old man was just sitting there with the newspaper hiding his aged face, munching on the toast Bruce prepared seconds ago. I know, I know. Alfred could use a break now and again, of course. _But_ he usually pushed _me_ to do breakfast and seldom pushed Bruce. The last time he did that was when I was sixteen and won my first martial arts tournament. Bruce had lost the bet that I would get beaten to a pulp on the second round. It sucked to be him back in those days.

Eventually I picked up my jaw from the floor and did my best to walk as calmly as possible towards one of the vacant chairs. The toaster 'dinged' again and Bruce readily placed it onto a new plate, skillfully spreading butter on it with a knife.

I remembered the file from yesterday. Who knew how many ways he could wound or even kill a person with a small butter knife? I then realized what I had just thought.

Jesus Christ, I was going insane.

"Good morning, Master Dick," Alfred cheerily greeted me from behind the newspaper. I saw that the front headline was '_Garth Calder Dating Another Woman?'_. I thought: 'these people don't know what a real story is anymore'. Which is true because that headline would more appropriately be shown on some lame teen magazine or something. Not _The Jump City Times_. It was shocking – well, to me it was – how low that newspaper had stooped in the last decade.

I returned Alfred's greeting and set to eating my plate, growing suspicious of Bruce's behavior.

Wow, this was good. The butter, making it soft yet crispy at the same time, subtly softened the crispness of the bread. I hated to say it…Bruce should make toast more often.

"What's the plan for today, Dick?" he asked, now sitting himself down on the other vacant chair. He shoved a piece of toast into his mouth, munching in a constant pattern.

"What do you mean?" I replied, cautious of how I worded my questions.

He shrugged, nonchalant. "How's the case going along?"

Oh. That's what he meant. I shook my head. "You never told me Barbara was involved in this."

He tensed, but revealed nothing else. "Gordon is a good friend of mine. One of the few _true_ friends I have. I owe this case to him, and his daughter. This needs to be justified." His words were cold and seemingly harsh to listen to. I knew better.

"So…are you going to work on the case with me or something?" I asked. From the other side of the table, Alfred flipped a page.

Bruce nodded. "Whatever I can. I understand it was given to you primarily, but in some way, I'm involved in this case too. I'll help in any way I can."

This was a side to Bruce I never really saw. Come to think of it, he never showed it much. It's a better side from the cold and insensitive exterior he put up whenever he was at work and at social gatherings. _This_ side gave me a better insight to the soul that was really hidden inside him. The raw spirit that made him who he was.

Cracking Bruce's character might take sooner than I thought – what with the case and all, he might actually loosen up more than he ever did. Ever had, for that matter.

After breakfast, Bruce again took the responsibility to wash the dishes. Alfred strolled straight into the sitting room and I watched him sit down lazily into the couch. He picked up the remote and began to channel surf. Even Alfred was weird today.

I intended on visiting the café today to see Kory, but lately, I haven't seen her around at all. Rachel told me that she was busy with her current job and I had to wonder what she did in the day. Maybe she'll be at the café in the afternoon. It's Sunday after all.

But I really needed to get started solving the case. The sooner I crack it, the less people will be hurt. I couldn't afford to lose a single life on this case. I had to make sure everything was timed right and executed with the most absolute precision.

Kory had to wait.

I bounded up the stairs to my room and got dressed quickly. I needed to get to the place Tim worked to get more information on the whole investigation: where they got up to; what they've done so far. For six months, I will be a detective slash forensic scientist. It's going to be hard, but extremely rewarding if I get the results I wanted.

Downstairs, I put on my shoes and grabbed the coat hanging by the doorway forcefully. Alfred would be fine on his own. He looked content just surfing on the channels.

I opened the door and walked towards the garage. My Ninja glinted as the sunlight hit the shiny black metal. I grinned. Mounting it, I checked to see if I had enough fuel in case I had a mission this afternoon. I doubted it (as I wanted to brief myself on the case as much as possible) but I soon learned that unlikely things are still not impossible. Not yet.

I sped off into the road, the wind disheveling my ebon hair as I drove through green lights. My shades were folded into my coat pocket. I preferred to have my eyes open to the wind whenever I didn't have a helmet.

Tim's office wasn't hard to find. The building was huge, towering over most buildings in Jump. The only building that stood taller than it was Wayne Enterprises. Nothing could top that.

The floor was smooth and void of marks or rubbish as men and women traversed across it to various points in the lobby. There was a bored secretary chewing her gum indiscreetly behind a large wooden desk. I put my shades on and walked up to her.

"Um, excuse me," I said. She looked up, eyes dull and not amused. Although, I don't really know what she should be amused about. "Do you know where Tim Drake's office is located?"

She continued to chew. "Do ya have an appointment?" she asked and flexed her fingers over her computer keyboard.

"No, but I've been told I could contact him anytime," I responded. Actually, I wasn't sure whether he said that or not but I wasn't really caring.

"Name?" the secretary conceded.

"Nightwing," I replied, using the name Tim told me to use for undercover stuff.

The secretary sighed. "_Surname_?"

I shook my head. "He'll know who I am once you tell him my name." God, some people are just out of it on Sundays. No wonder they're _way_ out of it on Mondays.

"Fine."

She dialed Tim's number into the phone and waited for him to pick up. "Good morning, Detective Drake. Yes…Yes… Yes, I'll get started on it right away… Sure…Whatever you need… Okay… Hold on," she glanced at me fleetingly, "…there's a man in shades called Nightwing asking to see you. Should I send him up?"

There was a brief pause before the woman nodded and hung up. "He said he'd see you. His office is on the thirteenth floor."

I thanked her unenthusiastically and headed towards the elevator. The atmosphere was eerily similar to the lobby at Wayne's. Somehow, I felt more at home here. I could see couples with pained faces tailing behind a constable or gushing out their sob stories to a detective in an isolated office.

I stepped inside the relatively empty elevator and pressed the button marked '13'. The metal chasm began to move and I felt my feet become heavy. The woman standing beside me was staring blankly ahead. She had a dark complexion and light Afro hair tied in tight buns on either side of her head. She looked to be about twenty-four.

She exhaled through her nose and checked her watch. She must be late for something. I chuckled when I remembered that Monday morning I was scared I would die. She turned her head sharply towards me. "What?" she snapped.

Calm down, girl. "Nothing. I just remembered something funny."

Through my shades, I could see she was glaring at me in an oddly amused way. Like I was deranged. She turned her head from me and continued to look straight ahead with the same blank expression.

The elevator opened and, coincidentally, we got off on the same floor. I followed her down the corridor heading to Tim's office. Maybe she was a detective too. Or maybe she was going to see one of the detectives.

I was proved wrong when she disappeared into the same door I was standing in front of. _Timothy J. Drake. _I had to wonder if she was connected to the case as well. Just what was her role in this investigation? There seemed to be an awful lot of people connected by this one case – both personal and work-only.

I promptly knocked on the door three times. There was a muffled "come in" that answered and I twisted the knob and stepped inside.

The woman from the elevator was sitting primly-and-properly on one of the two chairs in front of Drake's desk. Tim himself was currently scanning his eyes on the paper in front of him. "Great timing, Grayson! Karen here just brought some new reports for the case," he said, not taking his eyes off the paper.

I moved to sit opposite of the woman, now named Karen. She made no move to show me she recognized my name. "What's it about?" I inquired my partner-in-crime. "Is it about the woman or the guy?"

"Both," was the elusive answer I gained. "Karen can brief you through it. I just need to pop out and get the rest of the data. I'll be back soon." He crossed the room in three large strides and closed the door behind him.

Karen held out her hand. "My name's Karen Beecher, but my agent name is Bumblebee. 'Bee' for short."

I took her hand nervously and shook it. "I'm Richard Grayson. I guess I'm Agent Nightwing for six months. How long have you been working on the case?" I released her hand and discreetly wiped it on my trousers. Her touch was too warm for my tastes.

"A few weeks, but we haven't had any major events or breakthroughs happening yet. We think the boy is in hiding and the girl has retreated with her gang to formulate a plan." She sighed. "Tim's only left his office once to recruit you. The case has gotten to his head in a personal way."

I raised my eyebrows. "Mind telling me which?"

She contemplated this for a second, and then resorted to telling me the truth. "Stephanie Brown," she said softly. "She was the first victim of that mystery girl's gang. Tim and her had been dating at the time, and she was even expecting. For some reason, her gang decided to target her and tortured her, killing her baby." She paused to cough, as if choking. "Stephanie managed escape to a hospital but the doctors said that she died on the scene from too much blood loss. I think that's bullshit."

I flinched at her sharp, harsh words and swallowed my next question to let her speak.

"She coulda survived. 'Severe blood loss', what _shit_. If the doctors took action, she coulda lived, and Tim wouldn't be working his ass off day and night to complete this stupid case. And now Barbara Gordon can't walk for the rest of her life, dragging you and Bruce Wayne into this mess. She's inhumane," Karen finished, referring to the girl behind everything that happened.

I stayed silent, not knowing how to respond.

When Tim came back, he noticed our uncanny silence and groaned. "Why can't you keep your mouth shut on my personal life, Bee?" he grumbled and sat down on his chair. Karen was about to apologize but Tim cut her off. "Never mind. I have all the details on what we've done so far so you can take a look at those." He passed me a stack of browned paper and a black biro. "And if you mention Stephanie's name in front of me, you're fired."

Understood. I nodded and stood up. Tim and Karen led me to my new office, which had a far better view than my office at Wayne's. It didn't have a huge grey building blocking the rest of the cityscape. Instead, the city stretched itself before me, vanishing into the fog of the horizon. I settled quickly and got to reading. Tim said to inform him if I came across a problem. It was like university all over again.

Some of the documents were meaningless – completely pointless to the case. There was a whole packet of captured photos of both victims and suspects. I studied the one of Barbara Gordon closely. No, it wasn't because I was a pervert. I just wanted to see if anything else was left in the environment. But I guess any other evidence would be stored in another drawer.

I peered closely at the bloodied carpet.

There. One stray strand of vibrant red hair. It was long, so it couldn't be from the guy we were chasing. And Barbara's hair was only up to her shoulders in the picture. It could be from the mastermind herself or from one of her lackeys. I stored the photo away for further investigation.

I moved on to a witness' statement of events. For Stephanie Brown, the doctor had actually admitted that she could have been saved but chose not to save her. The newspaper headline stapled to it stated the doctor was fired the next day. Stephanie was dead before anyone could ask her where she was taken and the police were too lazy to find it out. Only Tim had worked hard to uncover the location – but a one-man army proved to be too little to do much work.

For Barbara, her dad spoke of what was already written in the original file: naked pictures, bloody floor, cracked spine, inability to walk for the rest of her life, etc… Nothing I didn't know beforehand.

There wasn't much on the next possible victim except that he had red hair and was presumed to be in his late teens.

Shit. Come to think of it, every victim had been a redhead with the exception of Stephanie. But then again we needed one more victim to make sure this pattern was reliable enough to use. And we couldn't afford to lose another life.

I thought of Wally and his bright red hair. I knew him well enough to know that he would never get himself involved with gangs or similar sorts. His criminal record was clean, apart from the ones with the red light speeding and parking issues. Yet his charismatic and famous position yet gullible manner could make him vulnerable in case the killer(s) _were_ following a red-hair trend.

Next I thought of Kory and her fire-red hair. I knew _next to nothing _about her. Only that she painted amazing stars and had a busy day job. I could ask Rachel about her, or Gar, or Cy, but secondhand information wouldn't be as pure as firsthand. Their views could be distorted, even if it was only in the slightest of ways. Still, I had to try. She was as vulnerable to the killer(s) as much as everyone else.

I can't afford to lose another life to murder.

* * *

**A/N: This was hell to write. Just saying. Need a BetaReader willing to beta my stories because now they're being written with only a vague outline of a plot and by a very uninspired author. My commitment issues are a pain, so I apologise in advance if I ever disappoint anyone. Also, I'm not good at mystery stuff so anyone who's good at spotting plotholes could lend me a hand. :) Next chapter will be posted in the near future (and when I get inspired to write it). I remember Chapter Six being the one focusing more on developing their relationship, so look forward to that, I guess. Leave a review, if you can. That'd be great. :D**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Don't own characters. This chapter is dedicated to ****rats xp**** for helping me spot some mistakes and giving me helpful tips to continue the story.**

* * *

**Café Devenir**

_"A fine quotation is a diamond in the hand of a man of wit and a pebble in the hand of a fool."_

_-Joseph Roux_

_**Chapter Six**_

* * *

_**You might think I'm lame for knowing all these romantic quotes and stuff, but when used at the right time, they can be incredibly rewarding.**_

Wally called today. His voice sounded strained, but he sounded happier now that he'd convinced Jinny that the incident meant nothing and that there wasn't anyone he loved more than her. On the other side of the phone, I was inwardly gagging. I was one of those people who believed true love only existed in books. That was why I adored fairytales – real life just ruins everything. Maybe that's another reason why I loved playing video games.

So, anyway, Wally called just to say those things. I hadn't seen him ever since I temporarily switched work places three days ago. We hadn't arranged any meetings on our lunch breaks so our lunch bonding time depleted steadily. Alfred now packed me my own lunch (which made me feel like I'm going to elementary school) because I spent the entire day at the office, trying to make significant progress on the case. So far, none. We have acquired too little forensic evidence and pointless documentations for a breakthrough to happen. Even Bruce couldn't think of something.

But today the report from when I first entered Tim's office revealed something important – something that could give us a lead on who to suspect.

I left this morning in a hurry so I didn't get to pick up my lunch from the kitchen. Alfred had called after me but I really needed to get to the office. This was too urgent to delay.

The rough growl of the engine was the only sound blaring in my ears as I made my way to the office. We had been searching for this for days. What if another person had fallen victim again? I'd even risk saying that his or her death was crucial to the case. If it was another redhead, then we would know the trend these killers were following and do anything we could to advertise this. We could also follow the person's background and find out his or her connections. This could help us find the guy _and_ the girl hell bent on finding him.

Long story short: this could be it.

I breathed in. _Timothy J. Drake_ was staring at me with a hard, golden stare. I turned the knob and stepped inside.

Karen was on the floor, trying to piece together the evidence like a jigsaw puzzle. I recognized the red hair as Barbara's. I inched forward, restraining the bile from rising up my throat when I realized these were the naked photos taken of her.

Tim was rubbing his eyes in frustration. Karen greeted me a dull 'Good morning' before I sat on the chair in front of him.

"What is it?" I asked. "What did you find?"

He sighed, but retracted his fingers from his lined face. He was younger than me, probably about Gar's age. But he looked older. Wiser. His eyes pointed to the floor behind me, where Karen was kneeling.

I turned on my chair. From this perspective, I could finally see what Karen was piecing together.

Alongside the naked pictures, the killer had also written on her skin with her blood. Barbara's blood.

The writing was smudged on some areas, so it was quite difficult to understand. The words were also miniscule. It didn't come as a surprise when the normal post mortem and autopsy people couldn't identify these.

But the words were quite clear when pieced together. They were taken from numerous literary pieces; maybe I could talk to Rachel about their origins and alternative meanings, since she did read a lot of books. We were dealing with a true madman.

Tim let out a strangled cough and I sharply turned back to him. He opened his mouth and whispered, "Do you know the story of _Hamlet_?"

* * *

Lunch.

I'd always imagined the words as bright yellow with a hint of red. Much like Café Devenir's building. It was supposed to be a meal in the day where it was neither important nor unimportant. It was a break from work and a chance to reflect on the day so far.

And that was what I was doing. Reflecting. I studied Shakespeare in high school, but _Macbeth_ and _Romeo and Juliet_ don't really compare to _Hamlet_. I've heard of the famous lines and the actors in films…but I've never heard of the story before. Just that one of the themes was revenge. My mom read me quotes from it sometimes but I've either forgotten most of them or mixed them up with another play.

I entered the café with my shoulders and head bowed low. Cy was at the counter today. He smiled at me, knowing what I would want before I even asked for it. He was a strange character, almost the opposite of Wally, but that made him interesting. Especially with his cybernetic eye glaring at you all the time. You would always have the feeling that someone was watching you. For most people, that would come across as uncomfortable. But for me… me being watched continuously by rabid fan girls and reporters… I was used to being watched.

Gar was talking with Rachel at the table. He waved over to me and I walked towards them, my eyes fixated on the redhead sitting opposite them.

She came. I've waited _days_ for her… I've waited so long to see her again that her face had almost disappeared off my mind. But she's here. She's finally here.

I stood in front of their table, desperately trying to hold down the blush seeping into my cheeks. I slipped quietly into the seat beside her, relishing in the warmth that radiated from her body.

Rachel smirked as she put her book down, and I tried to play it cool, but even Gar could see I was trembling.

"So…" Gar began with the same toothy grin. "Kory…wanna join our movie night?"

From the corner of my eye, I saw Kory's face brighten and her pearly-white teeth flashed with her smile. "I would love to partake in a movie night! When is it and where?" she beamed.

I winced._ Hormones…stop it… just stop it…_

Rachel spoke up. "It's at my place, at the end of the week. You do have my address, right?"

"Yes," Kory nodded. She turned to me. "Will you be there, John?"

She was thinking about me. ME. Um…uh…Jesus…

I gulped. "Y-Yeah."

"Glorious!" she squealed and leaned over to hug me.

Christ. _Shit_. I moved my arms to hug her back but by the time I mentally registered what was happening, she pulled away and I felt cold again.

I'd always dreamt that her touch would be too warm like Karen's or too cold like Bruce. But it wasn't any of these things. It felt like… it gave me an overwhelming sense of home. Like…I belonged. And I didn't know it before but from that moment on, I began to yearn for her touch.

My trance was broken when Cy came back with my plate and pulled out a chair from one of the tables to sit with us. I munched on my food hungrily.

"So I heard y'all havin' a movie night without me," he teased. "Y'all know I'm a party crasher."

Gar grinned. "I thought you said you had a date on that day."

He flicked his wrist as if dismissing a fly. "Nah, she's cancelled. Says her work is overbearing her. If y'all seen what she does, you'd say the same."

I quirked an eyebrow. "What _does_ she do?" I asked, before stuffing my mouth with another éclair.

"Nuh-uh. Confidential. I work in the same place, just different department," he added.

"That's not fair, Cy! We all spilled out _our_ secrets!" Gar whined. "I knew you didn't work in the café full time. You didn't seem like the type."

Cy raised his eyebrows and chuckled lowly. His red eye was twisting around, probably constructing profiles of us: our age, our gender, stuff like that. That was what cybernetic eyes made in this generation did. I was pretty sure of it.

I turned to Rachel who was talking quietly to Kory. I know it's like a golden rule to not listen in to 'girl talk', but I needed to ask.

"Sorry to interrupt," I said, already getting nervous when Kory met eyes with my shades, "but what do you girls do in the day?"

Rachel answered immediately. "I'm on my final year in college. I study the Classics, but I did a course on Psychology and Advanced English Literature in high school."

I definitely should ask her about _Hamlet,_ then. The Psychology part could be useful as well. Maybe she studied the behavioral patterns of crazed, cold-blooded criminals and maniacal masterminds.

"I used to work as a girl in the room of mail at the Ames Research Centre," Kory replied, her green eyes flashing. "But now I am an astrologist studying the Vegan star system as my specialty." She pointed upwards at the ceiling. "I paint in my spare time as well, but recently I have not found much inspiration." At this she sighed, looking as if she was remembering something from her past.

So she was an astrologist. Maybe I could research her…but that would be akin to stalking. And I would instantly disqualify myself from my mission of getting to know her.

I glanced at her pink lips and wondered…what would it be like to ki—

"Hey, John," Cy called. He stared at me weirdly, but I was too entranced with the thought of Kory to break his stare down. "Heard you were the famous Robin."

At the word 'famous' I flinched. I almost didn't hear the name spoken afterwards before I instantaneously started ranting out apologies.

"Hear me out, I swear," I finished, my hands clasped in prayer. "Please."

Gar choked, a warbled laugh coming out his mouth. "Dude…you've got issues."

What? What did he say?

Cy snorted. "What's there to hear out apart from y'all's one of the best gamers on the board?"

I think I just had a mini heart attack. What had I been thinking?

"Um…I just practice and stuff," I managed to say. I looked at my plate and saw there was only one éclair left to eat. I chewed on it slowly.

"So…do you want to come by my pad some time? You know, to play on the newest Gamestation?" Cy offered.

My eyes widened and I nearly choked on my éclair. It seemed Gar had a similar reaction.

"DUDE! You never told me you had Gamestation 5!" he screamed, arms flailing in the air. "I THOUGHT I WAS YOUR BEST FRIEND!"

Rachel took this opportunity to pound his head with her book. "Garfield, shut up before I kill you."

"But Vic said he had a new Gamestation and _he never told me_," Gar wailed. "How would _you_ feel if I bought a signed pair of Garth Calder's underwear before you did?"

Rachel paled, her violet eyes diluting. Kory was giggling uncontrollably beside me, touching my shoulder every now and again to stop her from falling against the table. I found myself wishing I had Lady Luck on my side in case anything happened to her.

"Say, Cy," I drawled, Gar's little Freudian slip already a thing of the past. "What's your real name?"

He jerked a thumb at himself in question. I nodded. "The name's Victor Stone, but close friends call me Cyborg, or 'Cy' for short."

"We all have adopted nicknames," Kory cut in, "Gar forced us to think of one whilst we were trying to name the café."

I had wondered if they had all taken part in coming up with the name of the café. The thought seemed unbearably cheesy considering its origins.

I turned to face her. "What's yours?" I asked.

She grinned, the light in her stare flaring. "Starfire."

I felt a prod of familiarity in my brain. "What, like, _'Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love'_?" I chuckled. For some reason, it felt amazingly appropriate for me to be quoting Shakespeare in front of her.

She giggled. "I never deemed you to be the type to quote Shakespeare as a means of flirtation."

I blushed. When she put it like that… "My mother loved reading me his plays. I can't seem to remember which play that quote came from, though…" I sheepishly rubbed the back of me head.

"That is okay," Kory reassured me. " I know it is from my favorite play by him."

"What is it?"

She winked secretively. Or seductively, as my perverted mind added in. "You will have to guess."

"Um…_Romeo and Juliet_?" It was a cheap shot because I studied the play before and never came across that quote, but maybe I missed it somewhere. Plus, it was a plausible suggestion.

"Nope."

_Hope crusher_, I smiled inwardly. I turned to Rachel. "Hey, Rachel, do you know where '_Doubt thou the stars are fire'_ is from?"

She looked up fleetingly from her book and nodded. "Yeah, but I'm not telling you."

I pouted. I'm still a child, guys. Give me a break. "Then would you mind telling me what your nickname is?"

"It's Rae," Gar chimed in. "Short for Raven."

Raven, huh? "Fan of Edgar Allen Poe?" I smirked.

"Gar made me read it, admittedly," she sighed. "My presumptions were mixed, but afterwards it grew on me." She shrugged nonchalantly, but I could see the faint pink blush spread across her cheeks.

Gar licked his lips mischievously. "Say 'Nevermore'."

Rachel glared. "'Fuck you'."

Vic roared with laughter, tipping his chair back dangerously far. "I didn't know y'all's a fan of Neil Gaiman!"

"I have no problems with homosexual beings but I do not certify myself as a 'fan' of such," said Kory.

It was hard to tell whether she was joking or not because she held an unbelievably straight face. It was only when Rachel had to explain to her what Vic meant when I knew she was serious.

"I apologize," she said, mainly directing her speech at me. "I come from a small tribe in Australia and am not yet accustomed to particular names and slang."

"That's okay," I assured her. "I-I think that's a-awesome." Shit, Grayson, why do you have to ruin everything?

She fluttered her eyelashes at me. "Thank you."

I imagined falling in love with her at this moment. I would perform a sweeping kiss and lift her from the chair into the heavens. Kory would place her hands behind my head and pull me closer, flying higher and higher out of the clouds and into space, the stars twinkling beside us as nebulas wrapped us in purple dust.

And Richard Grayson the Cynical said, "Yeah fucking right. Ya ain't getting a girl like that in a million years. Get over yourself."

I tried to curl up my lips to smile back at her but all my muscles turned numb. I couldn't breathe, and I had to make it not-so obvious that I was hyperventilating in front of someone I was not yet in love with, but physically attracted to.

Impulsively, I glanced at my watch. Perfect. I made the normal excuses that my boss would kill me if I were late to get back and Vic made way for me to get out. I was halfway out the door when I heard Kory excuse herself too. I stopped to wait for her out of politeness and opened the door for her as a gentleman would.

Once we were outside, I was shaking.

It wasn't about my mini heart attack from earlier. That was well past me.

It was that I wanted to ask Kory something that I would normally be able to do if she were just any ordinary girl.

I gritted my teeth and ran my hand through my hair fifty-two times. Goddammit, she was leaving soon! It was now or never and I _needed_ to do this.

"Kory…" I breathed.

She inclined her head towards me. We were facing the road, and the wind was particularly strong. Her vibrant red hair looked like a burning flag billowing in the wind.

"Yes, John?"

I… curse it. "I… I wanted to ask if…" Christ, can my palms stop sweating already?! "If you…um…"

She giggled. I stared in bewilderment. She was laughing at me. How much more shitty could I feel at this moment?

"John?" she said, smiling.

"Y-Yeah?" I replied, scared she would laugh at me more.

She stuck out her hand at me, and I nervously took it, confused. "My name is Kory Anders," she stated unwaveringly. She shook our hands twice.

I stared in puzzlement. "And my name is Ri—," shit, "J-John Pennyworth."

She nodded and winked once before letting go. She looked like she had just discovered something, and I hoped it wasn't something bad about me.

"I know that is not your true name, but I am not going to push someone for the truth if they are not yet ready to give it." She paused, closing her eyes, a small smile playing on her lips. "For now I will call you Robin, because you are too cute for an ordinary name like John."

* * *

When I got back to my office, it wasn't disappointment of not getting her number that plagued my thoughts.

It was – you guessed it – _the_ thought that she said I was cute that played in my mind. She hypnotized me enough for Tim to ask what was making me so distant.

I subtly avoided the question by asking him if the pictures were lined up in a coherent fashion. He said yes and led me through the corridors to an unmarked room on the lowest floor.

It was pitch black before Tim pressed a button to light the room up.

One by one the circular spots on the ceiling lit up the ends of the room, revealing glass caskets with numerous objects encased within them. One of them was a green-lit lantern.

I asked Tim what it was supposed be for but he just shrugged it off, claiming it as an object left at the scene of some "top-secret" operation meant to be used as a cover-up for alien business.

There were more interesting caskets to study, and I knew I wouldn't be able to know their backstory in time.

Tim beckoned for me to follow. I saw Karen at the end of the room typing in something with rapid fingers. Everything was incredibly spacious. Like a secret underground headquarters.

Wait…

"Richard," Tim turned to me, the palm of his hand indicating the whole room, "this is our headquarters. We are currently under a building called Titans Tower."

Titans Tower. The name sparked some familiarity within me. I remembered Bruce saying something about constructing a new building in Gotham shaped like a 'T', but I think he decided to move it to Jump City. If I was correct, we were currently under a tower shaped like a goddamned 'T'.

I heard wheels scraping against the clean-tiled floor approaching, and a wheelchair appeared out from the dark corners of the room. Mid-length red hair and horn-rimmed glasses registered in my mind as the person started to wheel towards me for introductions. She was incredibly pretty. Alfred always told me I was susceptible to redheads. Even my best friend was a redhead. Heck, the guy in the photo was a redhead!

I was calculating any redheads I knew of. So far I came up with Ron Weasley and Jean Grey. Yeah. I know I'm lame.

When she reached us, she placed her alabaster hands on her lap. Her red lips gave me a sultry smile and she said, "Hello, I'll be working on the case with you as a technician for undercover missions.

"I'm Barbara Gordon, but you can call me Oracle."

* * *

**A/N: I'm not feeling very well at the moment so the chapter might not seem so good. Updates will be slow for a few week because big things are coming up in school and I need to be fully prepared for them. I promise I won't leave this story.**

**Also, it doesn't matter if you've read Hamlet or not. The story doesn't reflect the story of Hamlet as it implies here in the chapter so don't worry. Everything will be explained in future chapters.**

**And for those people who've reviewed asking if Kory's the killer: you'll find out in due time. As for now, anyone - I mean ANYONE - can be the killer. Don't point your fingers at anyone yet.**

**This is a long Author's Note but I just wanted to say that this story has numerous references to the original Batman comics. Oracle is indeed Barbara Gordon and helps with Batman's missions. She was also definitely shot in the spine and disabled by The Joker in 'The Killing Joke' and he did take naked pictures of her to scare her dad. Please note that foreshadowing is not my forte so I'm doing my best in keeping the suspense Dx Thank you all for reading and leave a review if you can.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I'm really out of it. This chapter is dedicated to my mother because she's awesome and basically my hero. Or heroine. You know, I have a problem with calling people heroines because it sounds like you're talking about drugs. She's been sticking it out for this chapter for quite some time now, as have you probably. I apologize. ON WITH THE CHAPTER!**

* * *

**Café Devenir**

_"You see us as you want to see us - in the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions. You see us as a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess and a criminal. Correct? That's the way we saw each other at 7:00 this morning. We were brainwashed."_

_-Brian Johnson, The Breakfast Club_

_**Chapter Seven**_

* * *

_**You see us as you want to see us.**_

After I overcame the initial shock that Barbara Gordon was actually working with us on the case, I asked her if she saw the murderer's face. The records showed no evidence that she was drugged before she was shot so there was a good chance she was conscious when he or she shot her spine. Oracle told me that the shooter was female but three other people were in the room with her. Two were male and the other one was also a female. She couldn't remember the significant features of them because they all had their hoods up.

But the good thing was that we knew what kind of person we were dealing with: female, mid-twenties, sick-minded criminal mastermind possibly out for revenge on redheads. You know? It sounds so darn stupid in my head.

All Barbara wanted was to bring those people to justice. And I agreed. Nothing beats the feeling of relief at resolve. Except probably the thrill of seeing the person you love after a tired day's work. But I won't know that feeling quite yet.

"Nightwing," Tim called, beckoning me to the computer. I excused myself from the conversation and made my way towards him. He stood staring hard at the screen and my eyes followed his hand as he pointed to the words that were written in blood.

_"Beware; for I am fearless and therefore powerful. I can't help being a gorgeous fiend, it's just the card I drew. So don't judge. Though this be madness, there is a reason for it._

_And I shall ask: To be or not to be. That really is the question. Because when I awoke, the world was on fire."_

I didn't understand. I read it over and over again until I could memorize every word but I still didn't understand. Two quotes were from _Hamlet_, so that must say something. The other three, I can't be sure if they even are quotes.

Karen brushed her hand against my shoulder. I turned to see her forlorn expression staring gloomily at the screen. "I've identified the sources of all sentences. They range from _Frankenstein_ to _Hamlet_ to _Uglies_ to _The Queen of the Damned_. The question is, forgive the pun, what's the underlying message?"

I considered it. Whoever wrote them or dictated them must've been prepared to write that for someone to read and interpret. This could mean that they never intended to kill Barbara Gordon in the first place. Or Stephanie Brown.

They were after someone else entirely. Someone specific.

Karen gasped. I flinched. "Look," she said hurriedly. "Look, there's one more."

She pointed at the screen.

_"Run! They're handing out tofu again."_

Well, damn, we have our work cut out for us.

"Is something the matter?" Oracle wheeled towards the computer. I shook my head speechlessly. It couldn't be him.

It couldn't.

Yet…there was no-one else I could think of. I remembered my art classes in high school and made a stupid connection. Green was complimentary to red. I didn't know the significance of it, and I'm sure I'm not going to use it in this case, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna ignore it. Heck no. That's about the only genius thing I've thought in days.

"Nightwing?"

I turned my head towards Karen. "Yeah?"

"You look spooked. Is anything wrong?"

I shook my head and chuckled lowly. "I've just had a long day. Do you guys mind if I turn in?"

Tim smiled gently at me and indicated to the door at the end of the hall.

"Suit yourself."

* * *

I opened the door to the mansion silently. I mean, I didn't even hear the lock click when I turned the key. This just proved that I really am a ninja.

I pushed the door wide open and stepped inside, closing it again quietly. I threw my keys onto the table beside the coatrack and began to make my way up the stairs. There were voices in the kitchen but I was too tired to move over there. Besides, Bruce wouldn't want me to eavesdrop on a conversation, however private it was.

I sighed and rubbed my face. I couldn't think anymore. It was like a mental block decided to wall my brain in. God, I just want to go to sleep.

But the second my foot reached the top of the stairway, Bruce's voice floated over to the foyer, demanding that I come see him. When will he learn that I'm not a baby anymore? I'm twenty-three for God's sake!

"Dick, get down here."

You know? I really don't know when he's calling me by my name or something else. He looks really pissed off most of the time. Actually, he reminds me of Batman from the comics. (Go figure.)

"What." I groaned as I walked back down to the kitchen. The room was dimly lit and an unfamiliar yet familiar figure was also present in the room. "Bruce, I don't think this is the time to make business negotiations."

Bruce glared at me pointedly but stopped when the figure got up to shake my hand. He had large black-rimmed glasses sitting on his nose with tired grey eyes looking past me. His hands were cold and wrinkled like his forehead, and the hairs on his head and moustache were greyish white. When he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkled a lot.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Richard," he said. "Bruce here has told me a lot about you."

I scoffed. "Really? He doesn't seem the type."

He chuckled deeply. "I'm sure you don't know as much as you think you do about your father, son. Bruce isn't so cold once you get to know him."

"You're talking as if I'm not even in the room," Bruce cut in, clearly displeased. He inclined his head towards me. "This is Jim Gordon. He's retired from Gotham and moved here."

"I'm not too old to make my own introductions, Bruce," Jim said bluntly.

I laughed nervously. "It's nice to meet you, sir," I said. I told you I'm the lamest person in the planet.

Jim shook his head. "There's no need for formalities, sonny," he smiled and the crinkle was back again. "There's no need to call me sir."

I nodded once to show I understood and that was that. "I understand you have questions to ask me, my boy," Jim continued.

What? Since when?

Oh right. Bruce.

"Yeah, I do," I forced out. I didn't want to disrespect the guy – heck, he's my friggin' hero – but I was way too out of it tonight.

Bruce smirked at me as he sat down on a vacant chair. Jim invited me to sit across from him. It was like Bruce was the judge and Jim and I were defendants and prosecutors. Funny way to look at justice.

"Shoot," he said, then immediately frowned. Silence enveloped the room until Bruce cleared his throat.

"Uh," I stammered, "why did you retire from the Gotham Police Department?"

Shit, Grayson. How stupid can you get?

"Well, I'll take that as a compliment," Jim said jokingly. "Apparently it's not clear that I'm too frail for detective duty eh, Bruce?"

"Nope," came Bruce's short answer.

I rubbed the back of my head. I could feel my eyelids beginning to droop. I wonder if anyone noticed this. "Were you there when your daughter was shot?" I slurred.

What did I just say?

SHIT, GRAYSON. SHIT.

Jim coughed. "Yes."

Yes. Yes? He was…ok with it...?

Richard Grayson, you're a dick. Stop being paranoid.

I breathed in slowly and worded my question. "Can you describe in detail what happened on that night?"

Jim nodded solemnly and began his story.

"It was eight in the evening and I was sorting out newspaper clippings from the times me and Bruce were working together. B-Barbara was making coffee as she always did at this time and told me she was meeting with a friend at nine.

"I said okay, there wasn't a problem. I knew her friend; he worked at a mechanics shop down the road. He's fixed my car a few times, actually. Damn good job he does. Anyway. She said she'd meet him and I knew she was old enough to get a boyfriend without my permission. You know women.

"She finished making coffee and asked me about the newspaper clippings, and I sat her down, just like with you now, and told her a story. At ten minutes to nine, the doorbell rang. Barbara commented on her friend being early and went to open the door."

Jim choked as a tear slid down his wrinkled cheek. I could feel what he was feeling.

I felt it every night since the day they died. I felt it in dreams and in nightmares, and whenever I looked at the pictures because I have a problem with letting things go. There will always be this death grip on them, and it refused to budge. It's practically impossible for me to move on.

"She opened the door and this _BANG_ resounded throughout the whole room," Jim managed to continue. "Everything was in slow motion. She dropped onto the glass coffee table in front of me. Everything shattered. All my newspaper clippings were scattered, but it wasn't them I was worried about. My daughter was _bleeding_ on the floor." He sucked in a breath and Bruce closed his eyes.

"I looked up and this girl was staring at me. All I remember was fire and then one of them knocked me out. There were four of them. The small one took the pictures. He was the one to take out a camera before the bigger guy knocked me out. I heard a monotone voice droning out words from Hamlet. I didn't understand anything that was being said.

"When I woke up, I was in my room. And all I could see was red and Barbara's pictures staring right at me from all directions. It drove me insane. I don't want to talk about my insanity."

At this, Bruce stood up and helped his old partner to get on his two feet. "Sorry, son. This old body's gotta rest now," Jim croaked weakly. I nodded, helpless.

Bruce led him to the door, and I stared at my hands the whole time. The door squeaked the creaked shut. There was silence. I heard footsteps walking up the stairs and for the first time that night, I wondered where Alfred was. Maybe he was upstairs couch surfing. He seemed perfectly content with that the other day.

I knew Bruce had turned in after the talk. The ticking of the grandfather clock was the only sound I heard as I walked up the stairs to my room. When I undressed myself, I stared up at the ceiling, imagining it was the one from the café instead. I really wished Kory would paint me the stars.

Maybe one day, when I have the guts to ask her.

But that night, after I closed my eyes, I dreamt of fire.

* * *

Movie night.

After a long, arduous day at work, I could finally socialize. Wa-hay. Please note the sarcasm.

To be honest, I'm not too chuffed to attend this gathering to watch movies with other people. I don't mind it. I mean, the only reason was going was to see Kory. What's wrong with that?

So I knocked twice on Rachel's black door. She had given me her address reluctantly a few days ago. I took it to memory – and recited it to Gar when he asked me to.

Christ. I can't think of Gar without the image of words written in blood popping up into my head. It's scarring.

"Come in. The door is open," a monotone voice answered. I pushed the door open obediently, and cautiously stepped inside.

Rachel's place was dark. Not just metaphorically dark as well. Her shelves had skulls on them. Candles burned in each corner but they weren't enough to supply light to the whole room. I looked at her ceiling and saw that stars vanished into the sea of black space. Kory had painted her ceiling too. Most likely she painted Gar's and Vic's ceilings as well. I sighed.

Rachel led me to the living room then shortly left to head towards the kitchen. I waited until she was out of sight before I drew back the navy curtains and saw my desk across the window. My helmet was sitting atop it.

I had really seen Rachel in the nude.

I was officially whelmed.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps racing towards me. By reflex, I dodged out of the way but the person still caught me in a death grip. The smell of jasmine wafted to my nose. The sight of fire red hair made me gasp.

Now imagine me saying this like a girl screaming 'Moe!'.

Kory was hugging me.

_Moe moe moe._

No. I'm serious. She was so warm.

I didn't have time to hug her back before she pulled away and beamed at me.

"Hey, Robin," she said.

I goofily grinned. "Hey, Star."

We stood staring at each other for two seconds before Vic cleared his throat.

"I believe we are watching a horror and not a romance," he groaned.

As if on cue, Gar came straight out of the kitchen carrying packets of popcorn. "Your beliefs are correct, Cy. We are watching a horror."

"Was that why you picked Rae's place?" Vic joked. "This could pass for a haunted mansion and it'd be the scariest room."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Rachel chimed in, her voice consistently one tone. "Do you want to sit down or do you want to sit down?"

"Yes, _ma'am_!" Gar chuckled and threw himself on Rachel's large sofa. Vic followed soon afterwards.

I walked over to sit beside Rachel. Kory followed to sit beside me. I was sandwiched between two hot girls. Talk about good fortune.

Gar silenced when the title screen appeared on the plasma TV. A lightning bolt was striking a haunted house and an eighties hipster was holding out a skull head right in front of him.

"What are we watching?" I whispered to Rachel.

"Shut up and watch the movie," she snapped.

I zipped my mouth shut.

Until the opening scene of _Hamlet_ came to play.

"Why are we watching this?"

"Shut up, John."

I was spooked. Why this movie of all movies? I could feel Kory leaning on me and enveloping me with her fire. "_Hamlet_ is Rachel's favorite movie after _The Breakfast Club_," she whispered. "Whenever we go to each other's places, we watch their favorite movies first, and then the desired one."

I nodded wordlessly, already absorbed into the character dialogue. Should that mean anything?

We stayed like that for the whole night. _The Breakfast Club _sent Gar and Rachel blushing like weirdos on the couch. Kory was giggling at Bender's crude remarks. Even Vic woke up after _Hamlet_ to watch it.

I was then reminded of the characters.

Rachel was the Brain. I understood why Gar initially thought she was the Basket Case. Anyone could see that. But I agreed with her in saying that Gar shouldn't be the Brain because he didn't have one.

Gar, of course, was the Basket Case. I didn't know much about Gar's background so I didn't see any truth in it yet.

Vic was the Athlete. No competition there, geddit? Ha, I'm so lame.

Kory was the Criminal. Could it be that she liked Bender so much she wanted to play his role? That was the slightly more appropriate reason because I couldn't see Kory harming a fly.

That left me with Princess.

Ew. I'm sorry if I'm being priggish, but it's disturbing to me.

I guess it made sense. I had lots of money, I basically lived on a high. Bruce was my friggin' father. I had every right to be called a Princess.

Maybe if they changed it to Prince I would feel better.

When the movie was over, Kory's phone rang. She answered it immediately, instantaneously frowning when the speaker started talking. She growled her responses and fiercely shut off the phone.

She turned to Rachel. "I apologize for the interruption. My brother is in need of my assistance," she whispered hurriedly.

Rachel nodded once. "Go."

Kory stood up stiffly and rushed towards the door, grabbing her coat and handbag along the way. The door flung wide open and closed with a bang, making Rachel's apartment shudder.

We sat in silence for two minutes. For one, the movie was over. _Don't You Forget About Me _was playing in the credits. There was no need for speech, really.

Until I broke it.

"Can you tell me about Kory's brother or is it personal?" I asked.

Both Rachel and Gar opened their mouths to answer.

"It's personal."

* * *

**A/N: This is by far the shortest chapter in the story. This just proves that I've been out of it for a long time. I'm such a bad author. I'm sorry. I will not abandon this story, I must reiterate. Expect a chapter near Halloween, but nothing else. Please review if you can, and have a great life. :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own characters, just voice. Happy Birthday, rats xp! Kind of a belated birthday present but here it is! And dediction to StarStruckPenguin, as promised. :)**

* * *

**Café Devenir**

_"For things to reveal themselves to us, we need to be ready to abandon our views about them."  
__- Thich Nhat Hanh_

_**Chapter Eight**_

* * *

**_Our first breakthrough in weeks. It wasn't a pretty one._**

I kind of had a love-hate relationship with rain. Maybe I was just a sucker for pathetic fallacy. Like, even though it sounds as if a girl would say it, I'd like it for rain to come down during a moment of passion: whether it be love or anger or sadness. _Merde_, I sound like a girl. Wally would have a hissy fit.

Today I had to meet Wally and Jinny at Hard Rock for some much-awaited coffee. When I arrived, Hard Rock was as busy as ever and a long line of unfortunate souls were exposed to the torrential rain crashing down on them. Poor souls. I was kinda grateful for the limo and Alfred's amazing butler skills.

Anyway. I walked into the café (which was less amazing than Devenir, but I wouldn't say that to the manager's face), and Wally waved enthusiastically at me from the other end of the room.

Geez, Wally. Why'd you have to pick the end table? Didn't you know I quite anger management training with Bruce a while ago? I sighed.

The room was dimly lit. Glass clinked and plates shattered (kidding) in the kitchen and rock music softly blasted from the speakers, setting quite the mood. I heard The Killers' _Mr. Brightside_ playing and I mentally cheered. The cheer was, in every way, mental. I loved that song. _Shh_.

The walls were lined with guitars from a long succession of musical legacies. I didn't play any instrument apart from percussion (if you could count a punching bag percussion), so I didn't care to read or analyze them further. I was just set on reaching Wally and Jinny's table.

Jinny looked pretty hot tonight. I mean, I wouldn't say that out loud because Wally would smack me to the ground but, well, I'm a guy, and there's no problem with staring. I learned that from Curley's wife, when Lennie was checking her out in a not-so discreet fashion. But Jinny looked pretty in her black and pink dress.

"Hey," I said, smiled, then sat down. It was routine. Wally smirked at me, Jinny beamed, the waiter passed by. For a second I thought the green hair was Gar but it was just another goth kid whose rich parents got him to work here. We ordered. We talked. Same old, same old.

"So, I heard you'd been pulled out of work recently," Jinny began. Her pink-tinted hair looked darker in this lightning. I think I've always hated the color orange. But that's just a random fact.

I smiled politely. "Yeah, I'm not sure if I told Wally but I'm working on a case at the moment," I said, reluctant to give any more detail.

"Oh," she nodded, her catlike eyes glinting. The waiter came around to serve us tea. She took it gratefully and started to sip. I leaned over to Wally.

"Your future wife is a reincarnation of Catwoman, do you know that?" I whispered.

"I am fully aware of it. That's why I started dating her," Wally whispered back. He grinned triumphantly and slung an arm across Jinny's shoulder in response.

I frowned. "But you also see that you're no Batman and Catwomen only date Batmen."

Jinny quirked an eyebrow at our discussion, which was becoming increasingly heated. "I'm guessing you two are in the middle of a geek debate session?"

"Something like that," Wally dismissed. "I can _so _be the Batman. I'm cool and can brood, however loud I may be."

Wow, he was actually taking this seriously. Might as well let him win.

"On the contrary, I think I'd be more suited to be the Batman," I said. What the hell. I was going against my conscience. Neat.

Wally's eyes flared. "Are you saying you're more deserving of Jinny? Dude, what the hell?" he yelled. It was quiet enough to not echo around the whole room, but loud enough to attract unwarranted attention from nearby café-goers. "Dick!"

I sighed. "I'm just saying, _Wally_," I said in the calmest tone I could muster, "that maybe Catwoman should be shipped with the Flash to have some variety. Batman gets all the ladies, so why not let Flash have some?"

You do not know how much that hurt me to say that. No.

Wally relaxed. Thank God. He exhaled roughly and sipped his coffee. "If you say so, Grayson," he chuckled. "Aaand here's the food."

The waiter placed the pearly white plates in front of us deliberately. The song changed to The Strokes' _Last Nite_. Tonight's playlist was great.

Jinny, amused from our earlier tirade, started to eat. Wally and I had a gentlemanly staring contest before we tucked into our food. Like I said, it was routine, and I wasn't about to break tradition.

The food was good. Compared to Vic's cooking, it was good. Besides, Devenir only served pastries and tofu cake slash bread. Vic took requests, but I only came for some sort of desert and not a full-on main meal course. One must wonder why I still look so handsomely fit from all the cholesterol-infested _things_ I've been eating for the past few weeks.

Metabolism is key, my friend.

After I had finished my food, I sighed in delight. It was raining and I was inside so I was grateful. In fact, I might do a simple thank-you prayer.

_Thank you. Amen._

I opened my eyes, unaware I had closed them, and they crash-landed on a redheaded male presumably in his late teens.

Short red hair.

Male.

Late teens.

…

Holy _shit_.

I bolted up and excused myself hastily from the table, ignoring Wally's annoyed swearing. I needed to focus. Where was that mini radio when you needed it? Ah, in my pocket.

Darned pocket.

By the time I finished fishing for the mini radio, the Target was exiting the vicinity. I placed the earpiece in its respective place (in my ear) and activated it.

"Nightwing to Red," I said under my breath, hoping not to be deemed as a schizophrenic by the sea of people I was currently surfing through. "Nightwing to Red. Or Bee," I repeated with more urgency.

"Red speaking," came Tim's strained voice. "Red to Nightwing, what's happening? Should I put Bee on the line?"

"Already ahead of you, Red," came Karen's roughed voice. They must've been sleeping. In the middle of the day? While it's raining? Preposterous.

Stay focused, Grayson.

"Target 2 located. I'm strongly suspecting this guy to be the next victim of Target 1. Proceed to follow or resign?" I reported.

There was a long silence from the other lines. The shock of us actually having a lead may have been overwhelming, but a _life is at stake here_!

"Proceed to follow. We're tracking you now," Karen responded.

I exhaled a breath I didn't know I had been holding. Come to think of it, I've been in a subconscious mood lately. "Affirmative. I'm on twenty-seven Woodhouse Street, crossing the road to Hard Rock Avenue."

"We know, Nightwing," Tim chuckled. "The earpiece has a tracking device." I felt my ears and cheeks blushing in embarrassment. "Don't worry, we don't think you're stupid." I rolled my eyes at the comment.

"Located," said Karen. "Target 2 located as well."

"How?" I asked, incredulous. I hadn't replaced any kind of tracker on him. How was this technology more advanced than my understanding?

"Our mechanic, Agent Cyborg, adjusted the settings of the earpiece. What you're wearing is all a microphone, a GPS, and a video camera. Pretty neat, huh? He's my boyfriend."

"Bee!" Tim's scalding voice cut in. "What did I say about dating other agents?"

I. Rolled. My. Freaking. Eyes.

"Thanks for looking out for me, Daddy," said Karen, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "But, really, I'm too old—"

"_Can we get to the part where we are actually accomplishing something IMPORTANT like stalking a redheaded nineteen year-old?!" _I hissed. They were pissing me off like hell. Gotta stay focused, Grayson.

"Sorry," Karen said.

Tim paused. "Target 2 is headed towards Nevermore Avenue. Familiar with the place?"

My eyes widened behind my shades. I almost tripped in my step. The redhead turned a corner which I knew led to Nevermore Avenue. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm familiar."

"Good. It appears he is entering a vacant building. Third one down."

The café. Why was he entering the café? And in the rain? TORRENTIAL rain?

"Red, are you sure it's third?" I breathed. Aerobic respiration was finally catching up.

"Yep. Hold on," he paused. I could still hear his labored breathing in my ear. Kinda uncomfortable if you ask me. "Café Devenir?"

Wait. He's heard of it? Dang it. It's not my secret anymore. Insert sad face here.

"What's wrong, Red?" Karen's muffled voice entered my ears.

"Steph…"

I cast my eyes down. This must be the place where they came regularly for coffee or something.

"This was where she was tortured."

Or something.

Shit, this was getting out of hand. Whatever this guy was up to, I knew it was to no good. Even though we were supposed to be protecting him.

I reached the café door and cursed the opaque glass windows. The guy might've been alerted of my presence. Opening the door might be risking too much. It seemed like every teenager owned a gun these days.

To hell with it. Tim's issues were coming together at the wrong time and I'm not letting that blow this chance out the window.

I opened the door.

Pitch black.

All I could see were the stars Kory had painted. When did it get so dark?

I fumbled around the walls for a switch. My body was pressed hard against the cold stone, sending chills down my spine. Slade Wilson seemed like a baby compared to this case.

"Nightwing, camera is blocked," said Karen.

I didn't want to say that the room was just pitch black. I didn't want to blow my cover. I was so unpracticed for this. So underprepared. I shut my eyes tight. I was failing.

I looked up at the ceiling, thinking it would give me hope.

The stars looked like they were blinking. I took my shades off for a better glance and tucked them away into my pocket. Yep, the stars were as beautiful as ever.

I squinted. There was something about that yellow star that linked to that green…what the hell.

Devenir. I remembered a book with a quote: _my thoughts are stars I can't fathom into constellations._ Was that the reason Kory decided to make 'Devenir' a constellation?

I racked my brain for the French lessons I had when I was a kid. Devenir meant to become, to evolve.

Holy crap, Christ.

_I have to ask: To be or not to be. That really is the question. Because when I awoke, the world was on fire._

To be or not to be. _Devenir ou dene pas devenir._

The shards of glass that had fallen were finally piecing themselves back together again.

Tim was not going to like this.

* * *

I decided to leave the café because (1) the guy would be stupid to stay in the building and (2) I needed to face a pissed-off Wally _and _Jinny, then (3) get home in time for dinner with Bruce.

I got back to Hard Rock and saw that both Wally and Jinny were waiting for me upon arrival.

Need I say more?

"Where the hell did you go, man?" Wally seethed. "It's not appropriate to leave in the middle of food!" He glared at me, or rather my shades which I had put back on. Jinny shook her head beside him.

"Wally's overreacting, but I do think that an apology is in place," she said, her cat eyes stern.

I nodded. "Sorry, Wally." God, I felt like a two-year-old apologizing for stealing a cookie from the cookie jar. This was demoralizing, but necessary.

Wally sighed and rubbed his eyes with his left hand. His shoulders were slumped in defeat and Jinny patted his back softly for reassurance. "I get it," Wally began. "I get that you're probably busy with everything you're doing. But it wouldn't hurt to set that aside for _one day_ and actually have fun with your friends."

I narrowed my eyes at his green ones. "Fine," I grumbled. "But Hard Rock isn't exactly my idea of fun. You know that."

He shrugged nonchalantly. "It was her idea," he jerked a thumb at his pink-haired girlfriend.

Jinny's mouth twitched in annoyance. "It was _not_. _My_ idea of fun is kicking your sorry ass to Antarctica and back!" she growled.

Wally smirked. "It's a good thing you take me back, beautiful."

Cue in make-out session _right in front of me_.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes a hundred times. I gagged inwardly. I did not need to see this.

"I'm gonna go now," I announced. They nodded. I left.

Well, that wasn't so bad. I took out my phone and rang up Alfred, requesting to take me home. I waited by the roof shelter. The rain didn't look so bad now. It was weakly dripping onto the pavement, like the sky had suddenly run out of tears.

Alfred came in record time. He opened my door whilst holding a black umbrella and shut it tight. He didn't ask me any questions regarding my state of appearance. I looked drenched in my expensive suit, courtesy of Bruce. We just drove in companionable silence.

When we got to the mansion, Bruce was reading a book on the large sofa facing the television. He seemed absorbed into it so I didn't bother disturbing him. I've had one too many pissed-off people today. I was only past the arms of the sofa when Bruce spoke up.

"Sit," he said. I winced. Here come the one-word commands. He normally did this when I was either in trouble or in deep shit.

Seeing as every other choice today involved the latter option, I resolved that I was in deep shit.

I sat down and relaxed. Bruce put down his book. His mouth was set in a straight line.

"Have you read that book?" he inquired, pointing at the thick tome beside him. I shook my head tiredly. "Maybe if you hadn't gone swimming in your suit I would tell you. Get dressed. Now."

I gradually got up. Dragging my feet across the marble floor, I eventually managed to climb up the stairs and into my room. I stowed my shades away and entered the shower, bathing myself in warm water, and then got dressed. My eyes barely registered the time and only looked out of the window, where four o' clock in the afternoon could easily pass for seven o' clock in the evening. I dressed in my chocobo pyjamas.

If you were wondering, Wally and I went to Tokyo last year for a game convention. He dared me to buy the pyjama set from a Final Fantasy booth whilst I dared him to buy some Mortal Kombat lingerie for Jinny.

It's safe to say that Jinny agreed to my secret deal for her to not wear it until their wedding night. Actually, in retrospect, she seemed fully confident that Wally would be the man she would tie the knot with.

That was, what, a year ago? Wally was always the worst procrastinator.

I went downstairs. Bruce only raised an eyebrow at my attire but didn't ask any questions. Thank God.

"Tim informed me the latest details of the case," he began, as if that would give me any clue to what the book was. He sighed in exasperation at my lack of corporation. "This book is the original text of Shakespeare's _Hamlet_. The whole script is in Shakespearean dialect."

I jerked in my seat at the word '_Hamlet'_. Say what now? "What about it?" I slurred, desperately trying to keep myself awake.

"This will be the first and last time I will _ever_ read you a bedtime story," Bruce scolded. "Listen."

I smirked mischievously. At long last, the missing piece to my childhood with Bruce. This was _so _endearing of him: to read me a story that creeped the hell out of me. He was probably doing this on purpose. Oh, crap, he was starting.

"Act one. Scene one. Elsinore. A platform before the castle," Bruce read. "Francisco at his post. Enter to him Bernardo." His voice lowered. "Bernardo: Who's there?" Normal voice. "Francisco: Nay answer me: stand, and unfold yourself." Lower. "Bernardo: Long live the king!"

I wondered if he was actually, legitimately, going to read the whole play to me. Again, my subconscious took control.

"Yes," Bruce replied, irritated I had interrupted his reading. "Yes I am reading the whole damned thing to you so shut your mouth and listen."

"Yessir."

He continued to drone. Well, I wouldn't exactly call it a drone because he had a good reading voice. It's just that a bedtime story is for bedtime. And I all I wanted to do was sleep. My eyelids kept getting heavier as the story progressed.

When Bruce got up to the part of Hamlet's monologue, he stopped. I struggled to stay conscious.

He exhaled through his nose. "I will spare you the rest of the text," he said. I did a mental cheer. "But I will tell you the rest in my own words." I groaned. He frowned. "Dick, this story might help you solve the case."

I shook my head. "I found a suspect today. Target 2."

Bruce nodded. "And?"

I sighed. "I followed him. Tim told me to. Apparently the earpiece was all a microphone, GPS, and camera. They were able to see who I was chasing."

"Continue."

"I followed him to this café on Nevermore Avenue."

"Café Devenir," Bruce confirmed, shaking his head.

I sat up slowly, eyes wide and confused. How did everyone know of Café Devenir before me?

Bruce, thankfully, elaborated. "Café Devenir started out as an abandoned warehouse for Wayne Enterprises. We were still in Gotham when we abandoned it. Then we moved to Jump City. The events leading to this case occurred, and somehow, Café Devenir made its way into the picture."

That was the most I'd ever heard Bruce speak to me. The reading didn't count because that wasn't meaningful. I remained silent, prompting him to continue.

"To delve deeper into the significance to the café, I'd have to tell you my story," Bruce lamented. His blue eyes had suddenly become duller.

I listened.

"I was born to Thomas and Martha Wayne. My father was the chairman of Wayne Enterprises, I was to be his heir…"

Bruce then described to me his fear of darkness and bats, which reminded me so much of Batman. Bruce had feared the darkness so much that when they were in a family night out at some opera house, he got scared because the characters were acting so peculiarly. His imagination got the better of him.

His father noticed his son's strange behavior and opted to his wife to take him outside for fresh air. Martha agreed and they exited the building, into some deserted alleyway.

Or not.

A beggar suddenly took Thomas Wayne by the collar of his black coat and shoved a .45 pistol onto his abdomen. Martha screamed. Young Bruce stood, frozen in fear.

"He said, 'Give me that pearl necklace or I'll kill ya,'" Bruce recounted. "My father refused. He shot them both and they died on the street."

I remembered seeing the necklace displayed in Bruce's room when I first arrived at the mansion. It was shiny, like no blood had been shed over it.

Bruce went through some counseling over trauma, and then when he was 'better' he returned to the mansion where Alfred took care of him. He went to loads of famous universities in Europe. Cambridge and Sorbonne to name a few. At the age of twenty, Bruce applied for the FBI but decided that it was a complete waste of his time. He went back to running Wayne Enterprises in place of his father. The Prodigal Son of Gotham. Bruce Wayne.

"Two years into Wayne Enterprises, I attended a showing of Hayley's Circus at the request of Rita Farr Dayton, a fellow scientist."

I froze. Suddenly, flashbacks of my parents' death came flooding back to me. Wave after wave of screaming and crashing, I started to lose it. I needed for Bruce to continue.

"I attended. And…you know what happened."

"Tell me," I croaked. It wasn't that I was a masochist or anything. I just wanted to know what other people felt when they died. Did they feel the pain I felt? Was I completely alone in feeling it?

"Mary and John fell during a faulty trapeze act," Bruce murmured, as soft as a feather.

I refused to break down.

Hearing it from another person didn't feel or evoke anything different. They died. What's done is done. I just can't let go.

"Get to bed," said Bruce.

I shook my head. "I'm not tired. Tell me more."

He exhaled gruffly. "I'm not sure this is the best time for me to be saying these things."

I shook my head, more vigorously this time. "No. I'm okay. Tell me about the café."

Bruce considered it. "Fine." I relaxed.

"The café was bought by Rita's adopted son, Garfield after we had abandoned it."

Garfield Logan. Gar. He was adopted too. His parents had died too.

"I haven't been tracking the progress café as of late, but I can tell you that one of the switches in the room leads to an underground basement. It's wet and it's slippery, and Stephanie Brown was tortured there."

I took in a sharp breath. "What about her?" I glared at the floor next to my bare feet.

Bruce shook his head. "She was Tim Drake's partner."

"I know that."

"Alright…she was pregnant at the time of the torture. She got out alive but died when the doctors denied her treatment. Neither body survived." Bruce paused as if recalling a distant memory. "Tim was furious. He demanded rights to search for her place of torture. No-one knew where it was because she had died. Until Tim came to me for help."

I nodded. It was making sense now.

"I used Fox's latest technology – the Bloodhound – where it could detect any place where blood had been shed by a specific person using their DNA. One of the results that came up was Café Devenir. I knew something was wrong.

"I told Tim. He went over there immediately and discovered the basement. All of Stephanie Brown's blood had dried except the ones from a whip, presumably used to torture her. I left the investigation to Tim. I didn't come back to it until Jim informed me of Barbara Gordon's incident."

I swallowed the bile that was inching up my throat. "Devenir. What does it mean?" I rasped. I knew what it meant already. I just wanted confirmation from another person. Bruce took French lessons too.

"To become," Bruce answered. "Could slightly be interpreted as 'to be'. Hamlet's monologue. Barbara Gordon."

It scared me how much he knew about the case. I closed my eyes, waiting for this new info to sink in as quickly as possible.

"Get to bed," Bruce repeated, beginning to stand up. "You need to rest."

It was only six in the evening. What about dinner?

"Screw dinner," Bruce remarked. I had spoken aloud again.

An idea struck me. "Do me a favor, Bruce," I said.

"As long as it doesn't involve something stupid, alright," Bruce conceded.

"Say, 'I'm Batman'."

",,,I'm Batman."

Mission One accomplished. I had figured out Bruce Wayne.

* * *

**A/N: Weeeeellll, I took some creative liberty with Bruce's backstory but it pretty much summed up whatever. Yeah, Cafe Devenir has been exposed! Dun dunn dunnnnn. The story will take on a massive turn from here. Next chapter will be intense, guys. Kidding. I haven't even written it. Bruce spoke a lot today, and Wally was way too passive. The chase scene...bleh...I had no idea what I was writing.**

**Anyways, more Cy, BB, Rae, and RobStar next chapter. And backstory. Major backstory. I think. I'm not promising anything. Please review! Have a great Halloween!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Café Devenir**

_"I cannot think of any need in childhood as strong as the need for a father's protection."_

_-Sigmund Freud_

_**Chapter Nine**_

* * *

**_This was the one moment in childhood where the door opened and let the future in. I just hoped it hadn't been too early._**

I woke up early the next day, wanting the sun to set immediately after Alfred drew the blinds.

"Master Dick, there is a phone call from a Mister Tim Drake," I heard Alfred state calmly. No matter how serene he appeared to be, I could still trace a hint of nervousness in his voice. What was he so afraid of?

I nodded. "Give the phone over, please," I said, reaching out my hand. Alfred obeyed. I put the phone next to my ear. "Yes, Tim?"

"Are you alone?" He sounded wary. I wondered what could be so wrong.

I glanced over to Alfred and he nodded, knowing what to do before I spoke. He shut the door behind him silently.

"Yeah, why?" I replied.

"There's been another…_incident_. Come down to the office. Pronto."

* * *

I stared numbly at the file staring at me. She was neither a redhead nor a blonde. But the signature was the same. She was naked on the floor with bloody words engraved onto her skin. And photographs.

I shut my eyes. The door opened. I heard wheels approaching.

"Nightwing," Oracle whispered quietly. She was shocked at the news as well. "A-At least we know it's the same person."

I shook my head. "But Stephanie Brown doesn't connect at all. It doesn't make sense."

Oracle inhaled deeply. "I knew her. She was a runaway and I took her into the organization."

"She was only eighteen," I struggled to comment. "It doesn't make sense."

Oracle reached over to take the unopened file into her hands. I felt her nodding beside me. I mentally slapped myself. If she could handle this better than me, then I must be some over-sensitive retard.

"Cassandra Cain, 18, was found dead in her father's home this morning. Her adopted younger brother Damian Cain, 7, was the one who discovered her naked body and is now being taken care of by the police," Oracle read grimly.

Something sparked in me. I straightened, alert.

"Who is Cassandra's father?" I spoke briskly.

"David Cain," Oracle answered, looking puzzled at my sudden burst of energy. "Why?"

"Who does he work for?"

I knew the answer before she said it. It was inevitable. This whole series of events finally pieced together. We finally had a lead.

But the door opened, breaking my thoughts. Tim dragged his feet in, appearing sullen.

"Read the file yet?" Tim sighed. We nodded. "Just spoke to Damian. Traumatized... scarred."

He took the seat in front of us and looked ready to place his head on the table and sleep. "Same signature, same person, different MO."

He opened the file and pointed to Cassandra's neck. There were vivid red lines to show she had been strangled. "She put up a fight, though. That's different." He pointed to the blood on the carpet. "Not hers."

"Did you set up a DNA scan?" I asked hopefully.

"Yeah," Tim exhaled. "That's the bad news."

Oracle and I sat in silence, waiting. All was silent before Tim opened his mouth.

"It matched to David Cain, but he's nowhere to be found. I can't get a hold of Bruce to let me use the Bloodhound either."

Bruce? Why would Bruce restrict Tim from using the Bloodhound? I thought he wanted to help us on the case…

"But two things we gathered," Tim continued tiredly. "One, she was a fighter. Two, she was the daughter of David Cain. I assume we all know who he works for?"

I felt glad knowing Tim made the same connection as I did. The first layer has been peeled from the onion. Sucky anology, but hey, I'm just trying to stay positive.

"Has Karen deciphered the words already?" Oracle inquired. Good question.

Tim shook his head. "She's with Vic, it's her day off today."

My eyes widened. "You mean Victor Stone, right?"

He nodded. "Yeah, Agent Cyborg. Why?"

Why hadn't I realized it sooner? Her boyfriend who designed all the gadgets, Vic with his insanely busy girlfriend… _"Nuh-uh. Confidential. I work in the same place, just different department."_

"Which department does he work in?" I asked.

Tim told me it was the Applied Sciences block, just beside where our Headquarters were, below Titans Tower. "You know him?"

"Yeah, he's the cook at the café," I said. "Didn't think he'd be working here, but I guess it should've been more obvious sooner."

Oracle cut in. "What's going to happen to Damian?"

"Foster home as usual, I suppose, unless someone legitimate wants to take him in."

I remembered the foster homes. Cruel, filthy, useless brat, they would call me. But my young naïve self wanted them to love me, and I just kept getting beaten violently with every Christmas card and every breakfast I made. It was hell and I don't want that little boy to experience one second of it. The system, like all systems, was too flawed for innocence.

"I won't let that happen," I vowed. "No child deserves to be tortured. I'll talk to Bruce later."

Oracle gave me a timid, admiring smile. She then turned to address Tim. "We need to discuss Cassandra Cain. Why was she the victim? Why did the murderer target her?"

"It's simple," I answered for Tim. "It's the same reason you were nearly killed."

Oracle looked puzzled, but pressed on. "But why did they go further? Why murder and not attempt at murder?"

This time, it was Tim who provided her with the information. "They want to test us. It's a battle we've been losing until now."

There was one more question I wanted to ask. "Who was Stephanie's father?"

Tim stiffened, and I wondered if I would be fired. He did promise. _I_ promised not to mention her name. I was in deep shit here.

"…Arthur Brown."

I let out an audible breath of relief. It was one thing to break a promise, but another thing to betray a friend. Oracle only had a vague idea of who we were talking about, as she had joined the case only a bit earlier than I did, and Tim wasn't about to let out his secrets to just _anyone_. Besides, Karen was the one to spill the beans to me. She could've told Barbara the whole thing.

Maybe the connection lay not between the victims, but in their relatives. Arthur Brown, James Gordon, David Cain. We've ultimately landed ourselves a pattern. And clearly this murderer held a very serious grudge against people.

But who was next? The redhead in the photograph? Who does Bruce care about? Or was this the penultimate act and Bruce is the one to be protected?

I was beginning to think the redhead in the photograph was some kind of red herring (pardon the pun), used to lure us away from the next level.

All at once, talking to Bruce later became talking to Bruce _now_. Urgently.

But then Tim announced, "I have an assignment for you, Nightwing," and I was forced to stay put in my seat.

"I need you to console Damian," he exhaled, exhausted. "He needs someone who's been where he is, and the first person I can think of is you. Make him smile a bit, he's in a difficult position."

I nodded acceptingly. "I understand. Where is he right now?"

"He's at the police station," Tim smiled, and Barbara beamed. "You might get a kick in the shin if you say something wrong so be careful. The boy can pack a punch too."

I shook my head. "Won't be a problem. I know exactly where to take him."

* * *

Unfortunately, my expectations of Damian Cain didn't match reality.

I'd seen him in my mind as a naïve crybaby, wailing over the death of his sister and the disappearance of his father. Just as I had been when both of my parents died. He would be short, just the right height for a seven-year-old, and not too fat either. He'd want to be left alone; sick of the world he lived in. When I came in, he would probably start punching weakly at my abdomen, contrary to what Tim described. He'd be traumatized. Scarred.

But no, the boy I was dealing with was the complete opposite of my younger self. He was the right height for a seven-year-old, yes, but he was uncannily skinny. Not anorexic, but definitely skinny. He had black hair and blue eyes. Like me.

However, those blue eyes were not filled with tears of grief or anger.

They were furious. Numb. Hateful and broken. It was a heartbreaking sight to see this boy, who's barely lived a decade, had become cold and distant.

Maybe this was how Bruce had been when he was young.

I could find no trace of dried tears on his cheeks and no trace of new ones. No puffy eyes or trembling lips. His fists were tightly clenched in silent frustration, and I believed Tim when he said he could pack one hell of a punch.

I saw a woman officer approach him and offer him a glass of water but he politely refused, his face had annoyance clearly written all over it. The lady walked away frowning. I almost laughed if it had not been the same situation from my days in the police station.

I walked over to him and he looked up impatiently at my looming presence. A formidable seven-year-old.

"Hello there," I greeted with a smile. All I was trying to do was lift the tension.

"Hello, sir," he sharply replied. His eyes cast down to the floor. "I don't really need anything at the moment. I'm _fine_." It sounded forced, pained. He was obviously not fine. I found myself wishing people understood him more.

"I know you're not, and it's okay to admit that," I reassured him. He didn't answer.

"I'm Richard Grayson, but people call me Dick. Whatever you want to call me is up to you," I lightly joked.

He stayed silent.

I sighed. "Listen, Damian," my shoulders deflated. "I know how you feel. I've been there." Noticing the vacant seat beside him, I took it, leaning back on the wooden board.

"How?" he whispered. He was so controlled. The walls have been there since the beginning and Cassandra was probably the only one who could bring them down. Now she was gone and he had no-one.

"My parents died in front of me too," I confessed. For some reason, I didn't mind telling my life story to a seven-year-old boy. What was there to lose?

"But not like how Cassie died," he softly growled.

"No," I admitted, "but just as brutally." Damian's jaw clenched. "Listen, if I tell you how I've been where you are, will you come with me somewhere?"

"Depends," he said monotonously. "Have you been where I am before?"

"_Yes_," I became exasperated. "I was part of a circus. I was _born_ in the circus. My parents were acrobatic legends and I was their son. Trained to be an acrobat, grown to be the heir to Wayne Enterprises. I saw their murderer cutting the ropes to their trapeze act. They were smiling because I was the next to perform. My dad reached for my mom's hands but the rope was cut and they fell to their deaths."

Damian whispered, "Was there blood?" His walls were breaking down. I felt strangely triumphant.

"Yeah, I mean, it was a fall the size of the ninth floor of Wayne Enterprises," I found myself saying. "There were bones shattering and blood spilling and eyes dulling."

I made it sound as if I had moved on. I haven't. That day still haunted me. But I had to make it seem so, in order for Damian to smile. I had to take on Bruce's role.

"Cassie died," Damian said shakily. "Dad's gone."

I remained still for his sake. We watched as the officers went about their daily routine. There was a bald man answering a phone call, responding in rapid stutters. Another woman spilled coffee over her new uniform. She was livid. Something tugged at my sleeve. I looked over to Damian.

His blue eyes now filled with vulnerability. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see," I grinned.

* * *

We walked down the street and turned the corner. I would think Wally would be more suited to this job than me. He could make anyone laugh in a heartbeat. But as our walk drew on, I started to think maybe _I_ was more suited. Wally's family was still alive and he hadn't had an incident quite like ours. Damian and I were uniquely connected. We were brothers already.

Admittedly, I hadn't expected him to agree to come with me to Café Devenir. When Bruce adopted me, I stayed at home all day, refusing to go to school or anywhere. It just proved Damian was stronger and braver than I had been.

"How far is it?" he asked. If I hadn't known better, I would've thought he was complaining like a five-year-old.

"It's just down this road. See the yellow building?" I pointed to the right. I prayed to God it was open.

"Yeah, I see it. It looks dodgy," he commented. I mentally smirked. Exactly what I thought before.

"Wait until you see the ceiling,"

Then my head was filled with Kory. The last time I had seen her, she ran out of Rachel's house. I became worried but Bruce's revelation and Cassandra's murder made me push that worry to the back of my brain. I prayed she would be there with her usual smiles. Damian would probably find her over-optimistic mood annoying but he'd soon grow to love her.

Ha, the thought of someone else loving her made me feel a tiny tinge of envy. It was ridiculous.

We crossed the road and I pushed the door open. To my relief, Gar was waved over to me as I came in. "Usual, John?" he called.

Damian tugged at my coat. Oh, shit. Yeah…about that…

"I thought you were called—"

I quickly bent over to whisper in his ear. "They don't know my real name so please don't tell them. Just play along. Please."

He nodded without complaint and I knew he'd keep the secret better than Wally had. I approached Gar at the tofu counter. From the corner of my eye, I saw Damian scrunch his nose at the tofu cake. I laughed mentally.

"Four chocolate eclairs and a large sundae, please," I told Gar. Then I leaned in. "Who's behind me right now?"

Gar smirked all-knowingly. "Rae and Kory, of course. Vic's with his girlfriend."

I smiled awkwardly in thanks. "This is Damian, my little brother," I lied. Well, it was a sort of white lie.

Gar's green eyes lit up. "Cool! You didn't tell us you had a little brother! He looks just like you! That's a little weird…"

"It's genetic, Gar," I chuckled. "Damian, this is Gar, the crazy one."

Damian was frowning. Perhaps the happiness was too cheesy for him. Or maybe it was the tofu cake. Gar took my order and I walked over to Rachel and – breathe – Kory's table. She looked radiant today wearing a simple floral dress.

"H-Hi," my breath hitched in my throat. Rachel rolled her eyes and smiled. Kory beamed.

"Good morning, Robin! Please, have a seat," she gestured to the seat beside her. I almost fainted. _Keep this up, Grayson and I will kill you_, I thought to myself.

"Uh, this is my younger brother Damian," I waved over to him. He was suddenly shy. I chuckled. "Don't be too timid, kid. It's just Rachel and Kory."

"_Just_?" Rachel quirked an eyebrow. "Really, John?"

I nodded playfully and sat down. Damian took the chair next to me.

Kory was fascinated with him. "Oh, you are gloriously handsome! At what age are you?" she grinned.

"Seven," Damian replied.

"Fantastic!" Kory clapped. Anyone would think she was beautifully eccentric.

"How are you, Kory?" I managed not to stammer. "The last time we spoke you ran out the door."

Kory's eyes dulled slightly. I immediately felt horrible for bringing it up. Rachel was probably shaking her head at me. "I just had to settle things with my brother."

I glanced over at Rachel. Her face was screaming, "Don't say anything". I decided to follow it.

"Four éclairs and a large sundae right here," Gar suddenly interrupted. He placed my order in front of us and clapped his hands.

The green-eyed waiter slid next to Rachel. "So, dude, what's up?" The question was addressed to both of us.

"Nothing much happened," I smoothly replied. Damian shifted uneasily in his seat. I passed him an éclair and he snuffed it down quickly.

Gar guffawed. "Vic's cooking's that good, eh?"

Damian nodded in appreciation. I handed him another one.

Slowly, I started to become entranced with the mystery of this group. They were unique, cut off from the rest of this mundane world. It was both scary and euphoric at the same time. Like reading 'The Secret History' by Donna Tartt all over again.

Gar laughed the loudest, of course. Kory was chatting animatedly to Damian. That left Rachel and I.

I leaned forward across the table, making sure Kory couldn't hear. "What did Kory's brother do?"

Rachel shook her head. "That's not for me to tell, and you know that."

"Fine," I grumbled.

Rachel gave a small smile. "I'll tell you something, though. Kory's taken up painting again. I'm sure if you asked, she'd gladly decorate your ceiling."

I thanked her then proceeded to finish the large sundae. I was famished; Damian had finished all of the éclairs.

Speaking of Damian, he was giggling school-boyishly at what Kory was saying, which was making me insanely envious of him. Me, Richard Grayson, jealous of a seven-year-old. The media, again, would have a field day.

Which led me to ask…

"Do you guys read the newspaper? At all?"

Gar shook his head. "Don't have that much spare cash, dude," he said. "Besides, I only read things that entertain me, and the news does _not_ entertain me."

Kory nodded in agreement. "I find the news to be terribly depressing and not happy at all."

It was the same with Rachel. "My mom stopped our subscription ages ago, and our TV doesn't function properly. Even Cy couldn't fix it. I only pick up little tidbits from the girls at my college."

"Maybe I should bring in a newspaper now and again," I suggested. "Not everything in it is depressing."

"Ah, but the articles that matter are filled to the brim with tragedy," Kory quipped. Something told me she had too much tragedy in her life. Likewise with the rest of the group.

I checked the time. Shit. I was supposed to be at briefing half an hour ago. I stood up hastily. "Excuse me, I'm kinda late for something."

Gar nodded. "It's fine, dude. You gotta do what you gotta do."

I grinned. "Yeah." I turned to Damian. "Ready to go, Damian?"

He nodded, his azure eyes warming. "Bye, Star," he hugged Kory.

"Bye, Little Robin!" Kory replied, kissing him on the cheek.

I rolled my eyes. "Hurry up, I'm already half an hour late."

Damian smirked but bounded up to me and took my hand. I pointed to the ceiling. He looked up.

The look on his face was priceless.

* * *

When we got back to the police station, Damian wasn't ready to let go. "Please don't make me go back there," he begged. I frowned.

"I can't take you in just yet, kid," I said. "But…I promise I won't let you live through hell like I did."

Damian was on the verge of crying. His hands were trembling, no longer tightly clenched. I bent down to look at him eye-to-eye. He was only a kid. "I promise I'll come back for you," I said quietly. "You'll be my little brother soon. I'll visit you regularly, and nothing's going to go wrong, okay?"

He nodded, wiping his eyes fiercely. He was still a kid. A kid who's seen blood and death before he's lived a decade. He's felt pain before he has truly lived.

"P-Pinky s-swear," he stammered. The tears meant for his sister spilling from his eyes.

I held out my pinky and hooked mine to his. "I pinky swear."

"Ask her out, Dick," he chuckled through tears. "I think you two would be great together."

I laughed. The situation was so absurd.

An officer came to collect Damian. It felt sad to watch him go.

I imagined Bruce being led away by Jim to a foster home as if he was being assigned to a prison cell. My mind then flicked to the scene of me being kicked out of a foster home in the rain. Battered and bruised.

_Damian would be well taken care of_, I thought. _I'll make sure of that._

The officer was guiding him towards a door. I was still watching him walk.

But not once did he look back.

* * *

**A/N: Hey, guys. *crawls under the crossfire*. Okay...um...I'm back. BUT the good news is this story will now be regularly updated because I've found interest in it again! Also, I couldn't remember which chapter I planned for Damian to appear in (because I still can't find that USB stick) so I just put him here. We see the Bat Family unravelling! And I can't write good fluff but next chapter is PURE RobStar and BBRae fluff. We'll see Flinx and CyBee as well, I think. And - the story will take a twist soon. (like, this isn't the last time you'll see Damian, he has a pretty vital role).**

**What did you guys think of him, though? (sorry for killing off Cassie) D: (but it does feel good to be back). Please leave a kind review if you can, and have a nice day! :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: Ha, ha, forgot to put this on last chapter. :) Anyway, standard procedures apply. Don't own anything but plot. But I still hate this chapter. You'll see why at the end.**

* * *

**Café Devenir**

_"__Other things may change us, but we start and end with family."_

-Anthony Brandt

_**Chapter Ten**_

* * *

**_A whirlwind romance... Maybe it'd fit 'us' better if it were described as a twister._**

A new message flashed across my screen. It was a rarity for me to receive such casual messages but this particular text sent my eyes bulging in simultaneous horror and euphoria.

307-540-0050 (Unknown Number)

_Good evening, Robin :) I have been pondering about whether it would be in your interest to dine with me tonight._

How…HOW DID SHE EVEN GET MY NUMBER? I never gave anyone my number apart from Alfred, Bruce, Wally, Jinny, Tim and a couple of other meaningless people. My phone was practically a mobile Facebook. You just keep adding people to boost your Friends count.

How… I don't even know how she… Does that mean she knows who I am?

I breathed in deeply, flexing my fingers on the keypad.

_Sorry, I'm kinda busy right now. But how did u get my number?_

No. No that just won't do. I can't just… Jesus Christ. My thumb repeatedly pressed the delete button.

_Sure, I'd love to!_

No, too eager.

_Okay._

Too indifferent.

_Cool, I'd_

NO NO NO NO.

_It _would _be in my interest to dine with you, Miss Kory._

I don't even. I give up. I pressed the 'Send' button and sank deep into my seat. Dinner was in two hours. If she replied, then I'd have a hot date. If she didn't, I could always say "Family Time".

A sudden beeping noise cut the air. I jumped.

_New Message_. 307-540-0050 (Unknown Number)

I opened it.

_Glorious! Where would you like to meet?_

I stared at the barren ceiling. Café Devenir would probably be closed by now. I don't think Gar would like to stay until Kory and I finished our date. I guess the next best thing was the Hard Rock.

_Meet me at the Hard Rock Café…or would you like for me to pick you up somewhere?_

I waited, but it didn't take long for her to reply.

_That would be marvelous, thank you. My address is 2061 Nevermore Avenue. It is the large grey building next to the café._

Rachel and Kory were neighbors, then. Or close enough to be neighbors. I wondered if I would see her brother when I got there.

_Sure, what time should I pick you up? Also, you might want to wear something suitable for a fast motorbike ride. ;)_

I added the wink for fun but regretted it once I sent the message. I just wanted to be seen as a cool type of guy, smooth and suave.

_Okay, I will make certain of that. Would 7:00 be a convenient time?_

Yes, I replied, that'd great. My phone ceased sounding out beeps and I ran to the shower to clean myself. I'd been through tears and blood today. I think I deserve this one night with a beautiful lady.

So, yeah, I showered…I don't really think I should go into detail about that but anyways…I spiked my hair and shrugged my bare shoulders at the mirror. Reaching over the bedside table, I took my comb in hand and neatened my unruly hair.

Then ruffled it again.

I know, I know. Don't remind me.

I grabbed my shaving equipment from the bathroom and cleanly cut the faint stubble appearing on my jaw. Then I dressed. It wasn't supposed to scream 'EXTRAVAGANT' or whisper 'formal'. I think it was supposed to just state 'Eloquent'. I can't wait to see what Kory looked like. God, I sound like a girl having her first slumber party.

I haven't been this excited for something in ages.

I flashed a genuine smile at the mirror then headed downstairs.

The time was 18:45.

Fifteen minutes was plenty of time. I sauntered into the kitchen where Bruce raised a sleek black eyebrow at my attire.

"I take it you're not going to eat with us?" he asked with his face hiding behind the newspaper.

I rolled my eyes. "No, I'm going out with friends tonight." A white lie. Sue me.

Bruce made a disbelieving snort but I ignored him. He kept on reading the newspaper article and I couldn't help but notice Damian and Cassandra's picture on the front page. Cassandra looked really pretty when she was alive. And Damian was a normal seven-year-old boy smiling at the camera. The sight of their carefree faces made my heart heavy.

"Yeah, I just wanted to tell you I'll be out," I said.

Bruce nodded as he turned over the pages. "Be back before eleven," he replied.

"You're not my mother."

"Whatever you say, Dick."

I groaned as I headed towards the door. Alfred handed me my shoes and I tied them up with ease.

"Which mode of transport will you be taking, Master Dick?" our butler inquired with a knowing glint in his eye.

"I'm taking the Ninja, Allfred. Take care of Bruce, will you?"

He nodded with a smile. "Of course, Master Dick. Always."

The large mahogany doors opened and closed silently behind me.

It was cold outside. Probably because it was nearing the cold part of winter. I think the only thing I'm not aware of is the season. I can't believe it's winter.

I checked my watch. 18:51. Better get a move on. The garage doors opened at my command and I hastily mounted on my Ninja. Would Kory prefer to be behind me or in front of me? Either way, I'd be close to her.

I checked the engines and fuel levels routinely before I sped off into the night.

Dramatic, I know, give me a break.

Jump City at night wasn't as lively as Jump City during the day. I've been so used to the nightlife at Gotham City that even now, Jump City seemed so dull to me. The casino lights that flashed by were boring compared to the casinos at Gotham. Albeit, those casinos were normally prone to heists and whatnot.

I turned a corner when the light turned green and parked my bike at the front. Walking up to the buzzers on the grey building, I pressed the number of her flat.

I waited.

"_Hello?"_

"Hi," I said. It was definitely Kory.

_"Robin! You are on time! I will be down shortly."_

To be honest, I was quite disappointed that she didn't invite me upstairs to see her apartment but I can't complain. Being with her was enough to make me happy even though I knew next to nothing about her.

A couple walked past me, giggling whilst holding hands. I stared after them, imagining something else entirely.

There was a click and I turned around to face the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.

Seriously. No exaggerations. There are no exaggerations when it came to Kory Anders.

She wore a simple sparkling pink dress that came up to just above her knees, swaying smoothly with the cold wind, baring her smooth tanned legs.

Her fire red hair cascaded down her back in flaming curls. Her piercing emerald eyes warmed under the dim lamp lighting and her glossy lips curled up into a stunningly shy smile.

I was speechless. As you can tell.

Then she looked past me and her smile became impossible brighter. "Is that your vehicle? She looks beautiful!" She giddily ran to the side of my Ninja, running her hands down its side. She turned to me, and my heart plummeted skywards.

I smirked at her childish fervor, doing my best to stay composed. "Let us go, Miss Anders. To the second best café in town."

"It would be my pleasure, Mr. Robin," she giggled like the bells that ring when you open the door to home.

I fished out my keys and ignited the engine. "Sit tight," I warned.

Kory slid behind me, pressing her warm body against mine. Her arms snaked around my waist. My gut twisted in nervousness.

"Hold tight," she whispered into my ear. And giggled girlishly.

I beamed. The feeling of her holding me like there was no tomorrow has never left me. Not ever.

The sound of her carefree screaming has haunted me all these years.

* * *

"We're here," I chuckled, "You can stop screaming now." I stepped off the bike and took Kory's hand, guiding her off the Ninja.

"Oh, Robin! That was amazing!" she grinned, bursts of laughter erupting now and again.

"Okay, okay, easy there, sir and madam," a waiter approached us. "Please follow me to the main building."

Kory thanked him and walked beside me. I think something told her it would be a bad idea to link arms with a more-or-less perfect stranger.

"Have you made a reservation?" the receptionist asked upon our entrance.

I leaned casually towards her and whispered, "My name is Richard Grayson. I think it'd be in your best interest to appoint us a table, please."

She turned white and smiled widely at my closeness. "Bensen will guide you to your table, but can I have your autograph first?"

I nodded and quickly signed her tissue paper. She was squealing with glee once Kory and I left the desk.

Bensen seated us and handed us the menus. Red Hot Chilli Peppers' Dani California was playing in the background.

"I already know what I am ordering," Kory informed me and passed the menu over to my side.

"Oh?" I asked. "Have you eaten here before or something?"

She nodded, closing her eyes in reminiscence. "I've been here with Rachel a few times, at the end of the month when we've earned enough from our salaries." She opened her eyes, revealing her bright green eyes again.

I nodded. "That's cool." Idiot! Why am I so incoherent whenever I'm around her?

I called over the waiter and dictated our orders; Bensen was scribbling notes down furiously. Then he left and we waited in a not-so awkward silence.

"So,"I drawled. "How did you get my number?"

Kory smirked. God she's so sexy. "I acquired it from a certain Rachel Roth, who had bribed a certain Garfield Logan to get his mother to bribe your father for your number. It was an arduous process, and Rachel will not tell me who your father even is!"

My jaw lay on the floor. Bruce had willingly given Rita Logan my phone number to give to Gar.

_Mindblown_.

"So, who is your father?"

Please tell me I'm not hearing this.

"Robin?"

And suddenly, the 'Robin's turned into 'Richard's. I felt sick and disbelieving. I needed to get over this. I needed to get over this. GET OVER IT, GRAYSON. GET OVER IT.

"John, are you alright?" Kory asked worriedly, reaching over the table to caress my hardening knuckles.

I managed to nod painstakingly. I was over it.

I didn't know when these fits of mental blockage started. I think they've always been there, and my encounter with James Gordon probably intensified it. If Tim found out, there was the possibility of getting kicked off the case. I wasn't about to let that happen. Not when these people haven't been brought to justice yet.

"I'm fine, Kory," I choked out. The waiter came by. He placed our food in front of us and we started to eat in silence.

Then: "Robin?"

And: "Yeah?"

"I understand if you want to keep your family and identity secret. God knows I do too. I do it all the time." She cast her eyes down onto the table. "But there are certain people you can trust, even with your life, and I know we have only just met not more than a month ago, and only spoken a handful of times together, but my gut instinct tells me we were destined to meet. And my gut instinct never lies." Her eyes fluttered to meet mine.

I gulped. How could she have so much faith in me? How can she be so confident in someone like me?

"I…"

"My brother…is involved with, as you might say it, 'the wrong crowd'. I…I am not the least bit proud of it, but I love him and so I must protect him. Sometimes, I just wish I could say no," Kory continued.

I whispered, "Kory…"

"I was born in Australia, to a tribe called Tamaran. I was the chief's daughter. When I was of age, I had many suitors wanting my hand in marriage, but my gut instinctively disliked all of them. The only time I ever distrusted my gut instinct was what happened afterwards."

"You don't have to tell me your life story," I said, not meaning it rudely.

"Robin," she said, almost pleading. "I have only ever told Rachel what happened that day in August. I _want_ to tell you. Please do not turn me away."

I sighed, complying. She gave me a thankful expression.

"My…innocence…was taken on that day of August 9," she shakily began. I stiffened. What? What did…? "I was walking home from my school when one of the suitors I had rejected attacked me and…_deflowered_ me. I…" Kory's breath hitched. "I ran away. I ran away fearing for my life. My parents would disown me. My honor was lost. My sister would take my place."

My throat got caught. "What?" my voice was just above a whisper.

Young The Giant was softly emitting from the speakers. I couldn't even pay attention to that.

"What?" I repeated, louder.

"You heard me, Robin," Kory replied. "You heard me."

"S-Star…" I stuttered. "That's…"

"I am alright, although scarred, I have moved on from that event and moved forward," Kory chirped gloomily. She shook her head. "I am sorry for ruining such a lovely dinner."

"No," I reassured her. Maybe too eagerly. "No, you're perfect. You're flawless, Kory. Don't…Don't forget that."

Oh, my God I was actually saying this to the most beautiful woman in the universe.

She smiled softly at me, her hands hugging her shoulders. "I am finished with my dinner. It was _perfectly flawless_." She giggled, my hopes soared.

"Glad you liked it," I said. Putting down my fork.

"Hey, look here. I've finished too."

"Oh, Robin! You are so funny," she flattered, alluring playfulness dancing in her green eyes, all traces of the nostalgic sadness gone from her face.

I signaled for the waiter to give us the bill. Once I had paid it in full (after a heated debated about who should pay it), I gently led Kory out of the building.

Fortunately for me, her shoulders were shivering uncontrollably when a chilly breeze gushed past her. I took off my fleece-lined blazer and set it on her shoulders. Her fire red hair blazed, scorching the black fabric. Her fingers pulled it closer to her.

"Shall we go?" I mock-bowed towards her.

She laughed. "We shall," she replied, taking my hand and fiercely dragging me towards the Ninja. Wow, she was _strong_.

"Didn't know you had so much muscle," I commented, amazed. I held my hand up to my face finding it to be unharmed.

"My father introduced me, my sister, and my brother to the art. Plus, genetics have enabled us to be abnormally stronger than the average human, and as I've heard, handsomer," she winked.

I could hear my heart beating erratically in my chest. I felt euphoric.

"There's something I need to tell you, Kory," I breathed.

She leaned against the Ninja, her hair splaying against the black shine. "What is it, Robin?" she asked smoothly.

"As much as I love hearing you call me that, you were right. John isn't my name," I blurted. I was going to tell her. Right here, right now.

She was beaming, her fingers loosening their hold on my blazer.

"My name…it's Richard," I told her earnestly. "Richard Grayson."

She laughed, the sound of it dispersing into the cool winter air. She let go of my blazer and I watched it drop to the cement floor. Her arms curled around my neck, embracing me. My hands snaked around her waist, lifting her from the floor. She was laughing so much I could feel her stomach pulsing against mine. I could smell her strawberry and apple hair and feel her warm breath on my ear.

And then, in one moment, our faces were so close together. The magnets pulled at our foreheads until they were touching. I saw her licking her glossed lips in anticipation.

I pulled her closer in a gradual motion.

She kissed me first.

* * *

It was sweet and blissfully sweet and amazingly amazing.

Wally knows I've had my fair share of kisses, but hers beat them all. Especially for a first between us.

Us. Am I even allowed to call us that? Oh, guess I have.

I screamed when she screamed driving down the highway. The cars honked wildly and pedestrians shouted after us irately, but we didn't care. We just wanted this one night between _us_.

I turned a corner into Nevermore Avenue. She took my hand before she took off her helmet and inserted her keys into the lock of the grey building.

All I could hear was the shutting of doors and the patter of footsteps ascending the stairs.

And the turning of keys and the switching of lights, and the ominous greeting of, "Hello, dear sister."

Kory stopped at the doorway. My hand felt hers trembling. She was afraid. I had the urge to protect her.

"Ryan," she monotonously responded to the voice. Her brother, I deduced.

"Who's that guy, Star?" he called from within the dark corners of the apartment. He called her Star. I felt insanely envious.

"He is Robin, the one I…the one I told you about," she stammered nervously. "Ryan, what are you doing in there?"

"Making dinner…" the voice deepened. I sensed a hint of playfulness. Kory's grip on my hand loosened. It was safe.

"Oh, Ryan! You can be so annoying!" Kory switched on all the lights. "For a second, I had thought you were Kam."

"Me as Kam Anders? Presposterous!" the voice changed from a mature tone to a voice similar to a guy stuck in puberty. "You have such a wild imagination, Kory."

"As do you, Ry," Kory giggled. "Step out so Richard can see you."

Mmm, I like the sound of my name from her lips. I definitely should've told her sooner if I'd known it would sound that good.

"Yeah, I'm just finishing off stuff in the kitchen. The dinner's all mine so hands off, 'kay?"

Kory rolled her eyes and smiled at me. "He is so dramatic sometimes but he is undoubtedly my brother."

A tall, tan-skinned boy in his late teens stepped out of the kitchen munching on tray of sushi. He gulped it down hastily, holding out his hand for me to shake.

I stared at his countenance. Holy shit. Red hair, green eyes. It all made sense.

"Hello, I'm Ryan Anders, brother and protector of Kory Anders who has all the strength in the world to beat you senseless if you break up with her."

It took me a while to process the 'beat you up senseless' part, but once I did, I registered his name.

Ryan Anders.

AKA Target 2.

I took his hand, shaking it slowly. His eyes so similar to Kory's stared at me weirdly. Damn it, I probably looked so gay looking at him like that.

Kory punched her brother's arm lightly. "Stop it, Ryan. You are frightening him."

I found no reason why she would be distressed over someone like Ryan Anders. He seemed the jolly, carefree type. Although being carefree often led to carelessness, I found no _reason_ for a murderer to target Ryan. He was perfectly normal.

_"My brother…is involved with, as you might say it, 'the wrong crowd'."_ Damn it, Kory. You're probably right. I need to dig deeper.

"How old are you, Ryan?" I asked smoothly.

He cocked an eyebrow at my question. "Nineteen, why?"

He fit the description flawlessly. "I was just asking…" I replied truthfully. "Where do you study at?"

"Oh, he and Rachel do the hanging out at her university as well," Kory chimed in. She turned to her brother. "Perhaps you want to finish your sushi, Ry."

"Will do, sis. _After_ I watch _Game of Thrones_," he sneakily excused himself.

Kory shook her head at me as he threw himself onto the couch and turned on the TV. Come to think of it, Kory and her brother had a cozy, neat apartment. It wasn't big or anything, but it fit everything just fine.

"My brother likes to view that show," Kory noted. "Rachel recommended it to him, and he does not sleep until he has watched at least three episodes a night."

"Are him and Rachel close?" I wondered aloud.

Kory nodded beside me. "They are like brother and sister as well. He would not want to be in the way of what he calls the 'BBRae' ship. I am guessing you have an idea of what that is?"

Ryan, who had been eavesdropping into the conversation, called out from the couch. "Sure, Kory. It's just like RobStar."

Kory blushed beside me. I gathered she knew perfectly well what _that_ meant.

"Kory even came up with the shipping name herself," Ryan dismissively commented. "Okay, guys, shut up so I can watch Daenerys and Drogo get it on."

I held back a laugh when I saw Kory give her brother a smack on the head.

She motioned with her head towards the door. I could only follow.

We reached the cold, thin air of the outside world. I was worried for Ryan. He seemed innocent enough. But his innocence and being involved with the wrong people often led to hitmen and war. I hoped I'd gain his trust sooner or later for him to tell me. Preferably sooner. Or just soon. I didn't want to delay the case one bit.

Somewhere at the back of my mind, a voice was whispering, _Then what are you doing with Kory?_

Of course I ignored it. I mean, what else would I do?

Kory leaned her head against my shoulder and I wrapped my arm around hers, pulling her closer.

"What now?" I said, proposing the question we were both waiting to hear.

She shrugged. I felt her shrug. "I do not know, Richard. We are two beings still riddled with fear and secrets. We barely knew each other and yet we shared an intimate kiss. Richard, one way or another, we are fated."

I smirked. "You do know that fated could also mean doomed, right?" She slapped my arm. I chuckled.

"You are so pessimistic. Just like those newspapers," she said, leaning into me again.

I sighed. "I'm just so glad you don't read them. Sometimes, I just hate what the media says about me. It's sickening _and_ an invasion of privacy."

"What _does_ the media say about you, Richard?" Kory breathed, white puffs becoming visible in the air.

"Well," I began. "They say I'm a womanizer, like my father."

"But you are not," she predicted. "Your father is Bruce Wayne, am I correct?"

"Yeah," I replied, afraid of what she was going to say next. Would she reject me? Would she stay with me…but for money?

"Can I meet him?" she asked sweetly.

"Um, sure," I said. "Why?"

"So I can teach him a lesson about how to treat women."

I laughed, and it echoed throughout the silent street. "Hell, yeah! Only if you do one favor for me…"

"And what, pray tell, is this favor?" she teased.

I pecked her cheek boldly. "Paint my ceiling. _Please_."

She burst into laughter and hugged my chest. "Alright. It's a deal."

We sealed the deal with a kiss.

* * *

The next morning, I got a call from Tim asking me to come to the office. The call ended and I saw Kory's number on my text history. I smiled and saved her number, naming her 'Starfire'.

* * *

**A/N: Ugh, this chapter feels so out of place. I don't know...I think it went a bit too fast in relation to the speed of the plot and other chapters. I don't know, really. Tell me what you think. I feel like I should rewrite it but I don't know where else to put it...grrr... anyway.! we meet Kory's brother, and Robin has finally told the truth about his name! And Kory reveals her tragic past (don't know how to write this romance thing even though most of my stories on FFNet have romance in them. go figure). UM. I THINK it should be ****_quite_**** obvious who we're dealing with now, but if you still don't know, then don't worry! Surprises are awesome! There were at least two reviewers who guessed correctly but I'm not mentioning any names. Have a good day! And canyouguyspleasereviewplease ? :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Titans. And you can shoot me now. **

* * *

**Café Devenir**

_"Less than fifteen per cent of the people do any original thinking on any subject. The greatest torture in the world for most people is to think."_

_-Luther Burbank_

**_Chapter Eleven_**

* * *

_**Someone distinct. Someone...I don't know. There's got to be someone. Someone estranged enough to be interested in tragedies. **_

The paper folder slapped Tim's wooden desk sharply. He stared at it dully, probably wondering why I had brought this particular file to his attention. It was Ryan Anders' file. The sooner we found methods and reasons, the sooner we could catch the murderer.

I sat down stiffly, opening the file for him. Karen and Barbara were in the HQ. It was just Tim and I in the room. He seemed stressed out by something and if I had been in a grumpier mood, I would've let him be, but since I finally made contact with the target, my spirits have lifted and I've become more motivated than ever with the case.

"His name is Ryan Anders."

At this, his head shot up and his eyes widened. He stiffly reached for the paper on his desk.

I smirked. "Wide awake now?"

"How'd you find this out?" he asked, not looking up. I had filled in the missing details on his file. "Ryan Anders, 19…"

"I met him, talked to him even," I answered. "His sister is my friend."

"Really? What's her name?"

I hesitated for one second. There was a danger exposing names on my part. Probably because of my upbringing with Bruce. "Kory Anders."

I saw Tim's ears noticeably perk up. "Kory Anders the astronomer? Specializing in the Vegan Star system?"

"Um…yes?" For some reason, Tim knowing Kory made me feel uncomfortable.

But he only nodded once and never said any more of the matter.

"Wait…how do you know Kory?" I said, images of the night before flashing back into my mind.

"I don't," Tim replied. "I know her sister."

"Hold on…you know _Kam Anders_."

Tim sighed. "Her sister ran away from home seven years ago. They found out where she was only a couple of years ago and called me, naturally, but they told me not to look for her anymore or tell her they called. Now _Ryan Anders_, please."

I sighed in defeat. "He lives on Nevermore Avenue with his sister."

"Any details?"

I nodded. "Room 2061. The building just beside Wayne Enterprises."

Tim managed a slight smile. I relaxed. As much as I wanted to drag my feet out of the door and run to the café just to see Kory again, I had to sort my priorities out first and my first priority is the case. Le sigh.

"The papers for Damian's adoption were signed today. Remember him?" Tim casually changed the subject. He reached for the newspaper beside his desk and handed it over to me. "It's on the fifteenth page."

I skipped to the designated page and there it was. Damian's nervous face standing next to his new soon-to-be mother: Selina Kyle.

Damian. It seemed like forever ago when I first met the kid. Calm, composed, and controlled, even after the death of his sister. I wonder what had happened to him during this time. Clearly Selina had taken some interest in Damian. I refused to believe that this was a pure coincidence. Perhaps Bruce had something to do with it.

I couldn't stop staring at their held hands. Selina's slim, catty figure next to Damian's almost-terrified face seemed too out of place. Or maybe it's just the normal case of butterflies in front of the paparazzi.

"That's not all of it," Tim commented. I looked up from the page. He handed me another newspaper. Whilst the first had been _The Jump City Times_, this new one was called _The Jump City Herald._ The one that had grabbed the scandal of me seeing naked Rachel. What could they possibly offer me now? "Page 15 again."

I flipped to the page. Sure enough, Bruce hadn't told me of his engagement with – you guessed it – Selina Kyle. Why was she suddenly drawing herself into the picture? Was this why Bruce has become so detached lately? Where had he been at the time Tim needed the Bloodhound for David Cain's sample? Please don't tell me he was canoodling with Selina.

If I knew any better, he probably was.

"It seems your family is expanding to greater lengths," Tim remarked.

I made an affirmative notion with my head, still not looking up from the paper. Selina was dressed lavishly in green, her skinny legs coyly visible through the narrow slit of her dress. Bruce was holding her waist in an almost possessive manner as they walked through the flashes of the paparazzi. They were exiting the Hard Rock.

"Dick?"

I glanced up. "Yeah?"

Tim shook his head. "Nothing. I thought you were having a black-out or something."

I sighed. "Sorry. This…is a lot to take in."

"I understand. I trust Bruce hasn't told you anything about it either."

I shook my head no. "But this isn't mere coincidence."

"Are you talking about the page numbers or the story?" said Tim, leaning forward.

Page numbers, page numbers. Oh, right. They were both on the number 15.

"Well, I was thinking of the story but the page numbers seem odd too," I admitted. "What I mean is, last night Bruce proposed to Selina, and then this morning…she signed the papers for Damian's adoption. It's rather sudden."

Tim nodded in agreement. He was about to make an observation when there was a knock on the door. "Come in," he said instead.

Vic entered the room.

I stood up, more out of shock than out of respect. I had known that Vic was Agent Cyborg but _meeting _him. That was a different matter.

"Vic," I said in greeting.

He gave me a quizzical look. "John? What you doing here?" he replied, walking over to Tim's desk, who was watching us, amused.

"_John_?" Tim snorted. "He's not called John."

Uh oh.

"Agent Cyborg, meet Agent Nightwing."

* * *

"When the hell were you going to tell me you were _Richard Grayson_ of all people in this damned universe?"

After the awkward encounter at the office, Tim suggested we take it outside. I had borrowed the newspapers to analyze a bit further and then waited patiently for Vic to finish his conversation with Tim. It was about an update on some techy stuff. I didn't bother letting him elaborate. I just shut my ears and focused on the paper.

I knew that I would be spending quite a considerable amount of money on newspapers today, considering there was quite a considerable amount of newspapers circulating Jump City. If the same stories are on the same pages in _all_ the newspapers, there is definitely no coincidence.

Vic finished his report and glared at me to follow him to Starbucks. Because Devenir had Gar and Gar did not need to hear this before Vic.

"Are you going to answer me willingly or am I going to have ta beat you up?" Vic threatened lightly.

I gulped and stared down at the metal table. "I don't know where to begin," I replied truthfully.

"How about the beginning?" he suggested. "From when you lied about your identity to when you were assigned the case until now." He took a sip of his coffee before setting it down on the table, eyeing me suspiciously.

Just then, the waiter called for the 'Boy Wonder'. I face-palmed. Who knew geeks would be managing Starbucks these days?

I stood up anyway to fetch my cappuccino, awkwardly thanking the geek who wouldn't stop staring at me.

I sat back down with Vic.

Sip.

Sip.

"I'm Richard Grayson," I began.

"No shit," Vic remarked. I narrowed my eyes at him. At least let me finish. Geez. "You're the heir to Wayne Enterprises, adopted son of the guy who proposed to the bimbo last night."

OK. That goes too far. Sure Selina sometimes dressed like a slut, but she sure as hell is not a slut. And not a bimbo either. And why am I even defending her in the first place?

"Yes," I reluctantly affirmed. If that's how he knew her, there was no changing it until I get them to meet each other. "I am also one of the people handling Case Hamlet."

It wasn't a creative name, I must admit. But I didn't come up with it. Karen did.

Vic prompted me to carry on with his hand. He took another sip of his coffee. I forgot how that cybernetic red eye freaked me out a bit.

"Um," I unintelligibly murmur. "I don't know what to say next."

At this, Vic sighed, clearly frustrated. "OK. I get that you're Dick Grayson the rich boy blah blah and you're takin' the case with Bee blah blah but what I _don't _get is why you lied in the first place. So why?"

I closed my eyes for a brief second.

Sip.

Sip.

"Because…" I started, then trailed off nervously. "Because I was afraid all of you would overreact if I told you Richard Grayson visited your café. Because I was afraid of being used. Because of publicity."

We stayed silent, listening to the busy hustling of customers entering and exiting the tiny building, the waiters calling for names that were sometimes weird and sometimes normal, the sipping of coffee, the occasional laughter of a couple of couples, the—

"Famous, huh," Vic finally broke the silence. I turned my head towards him. "So that's why you freaked out when Gar and I called you famous," he elaborated. I said yes. He whistled as he exhaled, making a movement with his eyes…or eye. "Well, what's done is done. Nothing's going to change with a name between us. Everyone else would probably think the same."

By 'everyone else', I assumed he was talking about Kory, Gar, and Rachel. Kory already knew. Gar would probably behave like Vic. But Rachel…I can already imagine her face.

Of course, she's smart. She probably saw it coming. The way she gave an obvious emphasis to my fake name, the weird stares, the 'looking past the shades'. I would be surprised if she didn't have any idea as to who I was.

That doesn't stop me from trembling at the thought of Rachel discovering that the guy she had invited into her home for a movie night was the same guy who saw her naked in the same room.

Jesus.

"Anyways," Vic continued, snapping me from my thoughts. "How's the tech? Tim asked me to tinker a bit with some gadgets for his new 'fledgling'. That would be you."

I laughed tentatively. Fledgling. Only Tim. "They're pretty neat," I said. "Initially they confused me because I was thinking, 'How is Tim seeing what I'm seeing through an earpiece?'" Cue in Vic's booming chuckle. "Then he and Karen explained that you had put in the camera."

He nodded, smiling comfortable now. "It was Bee's idea to put in the camera."

I told him it was really clever. He seemed to relish the praise. I asked him about the report he made earlier in the office.

He waved it off. "Just some updates on a project I was working on," he said nonchalantly.

"What's Tim got to do with it?" I inquired, taking a sip.

He shook his head. "Confidential." And winked.

I rolled my eyes. "Of course."

We finished our coffee and headed back into the building. After acknowledging each other with a mutual understanding, we parted ways. Me, heading back to Tim's office to discuss more on Ryan Anders, and Vic heading off to do what he does best.

* * *

Seems Tim already beat me to it.

As soon as I opened his door, the first person I saw was Karen and a stack of newspapers on the floor. Tim was crouched on the carpet, laying out the individual newspapers one-by-one. Systematically. Oracle watched on, noting down the name of the newspaper and which page number the Selina Kyle stories were on.

I entered the room, closing the door behind me as quietly as I could. Tim looked up and waved tiredly.

"Great minds think alike," I said, crouching down to help him. The Jumping Sun, Jumper…Jesus, he's got every damned newspaper in Jump City. Every single one of them. "How much did everything cost?"

Tim shook his head. "Already taken care of, don't worry."

I rolled my eyes. I wasn't _worrying_ per se.

"Nice to see you, Nightwing," Oracle greeted, extending her arm towards me. I leaned forwards to take it then returned to my original position. She smiled awkwardly. Awkward.

"So what do you have?" I asked to break the tension. She relaxed and showed me her notepad.

I scanned the list, noting that some stories were posted on the third, fifth, sixth and ninth, and sometimes the fifteenth page. There couldn't possibly be a correlation unless…

"Six and nine add to fifteen. Three and five multiply," Oracle explained. "Fifteen."

I tapped my chin in thought. Tim crawled closer. Karen was still laying out the papers, searching for something that _broke_ the chain rather than continued it.

"I can't think of anything notable associating with the number fifteen," I admitted, shrugging. "Tim?"

He shook his head no. "Fifteen is unusual. I guess they wanted to break from the cliché of unlucky thirteen. That, or…I don't know, something else."

I restrained myself from laughing. Detective Timothy J. Drake not knowing. Wow.

"Luckily, I have a few suggestions," said Oracle. All of us looked at her, incredulous. She smiled. "OK, guys, it's rude to stare."

Tim stood up, I followed after, taking the seat in front of his desk. Oracle wheeled herself closer to the desk too. Karen took the seat opposite me.

"By the way, Bee," I started. "I met your boyfriend today. Or…'officially' met him…"

Karen raised her eyebrows. "You met Vic? Why?"

I shrugged. "I met him before. Just not as Richard Grayson…"

Tim cleared his throat. "Let's get to the matter at hand, people."

We nodded. Oracle passed the list over to Tim who scanned it quickly. "All plausible," he commented.

Oracle quickly elaborated. "It could refer to a lot of things, really. Like the number of floors in a building, a quarter past or a quarter to, the first point in a tennis match, the corresponding number to one of the tarot cards, which I fail to remember, or, if broken down, represents A and E respectively. Accident and Emergency, etc..."

Brilliant. And all plausible. Wayne Enterprises has fifteen floors, a quarter past three or a quarter to four could be the timings of a robbery, a bombing, a murder… A tennis match was coming up in a few days. Tarot cards. The hospital.

"We could search online for other mythical or ancient symbolism for the number fifteen," Oracle continued. "But I think it isn't necessary to go back that far."

Tim nodded. "I agree. This is adequate information. Nightwing, maybe you should meet with Ryan again…test him if _fifteen_ means something to him."

"W-w-w-w-_wait_," Karen interrupted. "Hold up. Who is Ryan?" Tim passed her the file. She opened it, eyes widening. "You've met Ryan Anders? He's been identified?"

"Yes and yes," I answered. I turned to address Tim. "I can't really meet with him so soon. It'd be…weird."

"Fine," Tim relented. "He's in our care now. At least, secretly." Karen nodded in confirmation. Oracle too. "For now, maybe get some more info from Bruce about Selina Kyle. Whether you like it or not, her being involved in both stories make her suspicious. She needs to be investigated."

I sighed. I kind of liked Selina. Even if Bruce never admitted it, Selina had a positive effect on him. She was fun to talk to, like an older sister. She even gave me counselling on my first bad break-up. But work is work. No-one is safe.

"Understood," I affirmed, leaning back on the chair.

"OK," Karen drawled. "So this Ryan guy. What now?"

"Kory said he's in with the wrong crowd," I commented.

"Who is Kory?" Oracle inquired, my hyperawareness detecting a hint of disappointment in her tone. I was more or less confused by this.

"His sister," I replied. "Which leads us to believe that either Ryan has some gang troubles or Ryan knows something he's not supposed to know and that's why he's in hiding."

Karen agreed.

"But," I added. "When I met him, he didn't seem like the type to commit _any_ sort of crime. He's just a normal teenaged kid who likes watching _Game of Thrones_."

"We can't take any chances," Tim remarked. "Just because he seems normal doesn't shake the fact that he _might _be involved in some sort of conspiracy or 'gang trouble'."

Trust Tim to be suspicious of everything. Trust me to be too trusting. Christ, I only met the guy for ten minutes and I'm already defending him.

Oracle took down some notes, scribbling furiously on her pad. After she put her pen down, she excused herself from the room. We stared after her as she wheeled herself out, turning a sharp corner at the corridor and disappearing out of sight.

I wonder what got to her. I won't have long to find out, yes, but still. In such a hurry, one would think she was onto something.

* * *

I wouldn't call this Break Time or anything since it's still three in the afternoon but it's still a break from all the thinking we had to do all afternoon.

Besides, Break Time = Devenir Time. And we all know what that entails.

Disappointment.

As soon as I arrived at the café, there was no sign of my fire-haired beauty anywhere.

Gar bounded up to me, leaving his seat at Rachel's opposite. "Hey, John!" he greeted. "The usual?"

I nodded, trying to mask my disappointment. Gar disappeared off into the kitchen. I'm guessing Vic was still at his other workplace, leaving Gar to do all the cooking up. By the look Rachel gave me, I don't think I should invest a lot of trust in his skills.

I took the seat opposite Rachel. Just like last time, she was reading a thick tome. Maybe I should ask her about Hamlet.

I cleared my throat. She looked up, bored. "Do you, uh, do you know anything about Hamlet?" I asked. Stupid question, Grayson. OF COURSE SHE KNOWS HAMLET IT'S HER FAVOURITE FREAKING MOVIE.

She nodded slowly, wondering where this was leading to. Thankfully she put the book down.

"I was just…I don't know. Wondering about this Hamlet quote. You know, the one he uses in his monologue," I explained vaguely.

She raised an eyebrow. "What are you getting at?"

"I'm just _asking_."

"You don't seem like the type to be interested in Hamlet."

Bingo.

I grinned. "So what _is_ the type to be interested in Hamlet?"

She studied my face for a second then consented. I breathed a sigh of relief. Mentally, of course. Mentally.

"People like me," she said. I deadpanned.

Rachel smirked in amusement. "A serious answer?" I nodded. "Well…someone who has an obvious taste in tragedies. Anyone could like Hamlet, but only someone who had studied him actually _knows_ his character. And to study something, you have to be at least a little interested in it. Studying willingly, of course.

"Academics, maybe. But most academics look at it logically. Sure, the creative side could be embedded in the logical aspect of it. It just depends on the person. Take me as an example. I _like _looking at it from a logical, systematic perspective, but I can't help involving a little imagination in it too. Imagination basically takes up a lot of my theories.

"What I mean is, someone who _knows_ Hamlet, both the character and the play, needs to be someone…weird. Distinct. Like maybe a collector of sorts. I don't know."

"That…was the longest I've ever heard you talk for the fourteen years I've known you," Gar cut in, placing a scorched cake in front of me. Uh…yum?

Rachel flushed slightly, whether she was out of breath from saying so much or from Gar's comment I don't know. "We haven't known each other for that long," she replied, feigning indifference.

Gar scratched the back of his neck timidly. "Well, I guess if you cut out five years or so…" He took a seat next to her. "Nevertheless, we have been in each other's presence for nine years."

Rachel muttered something incoherent whilst I continued to stare down at the scorched cake. Should I reject it and offend Gar, or eat it and possibly die from either gagging or food poisoning? I'm not so sure.

"Don't worry. Gar's too thick to actually be offended by something like this," Rachel pointed out.

Gar made a face. I snickered.

"What're you reading, Rae?" Gar changed the subject.

"Didn't you ask me this when I walked into the café?"

I raised my eyebrows. Gar's cheeks tinted pink slightly.

"Y-Yeah well, maybe John's a b-bit curious too. I was only asking f-for him," he stammered. I chuckled, leaning back on the seats. I found myself staring at the ceiling, mesmerised by Kory's handiwork.

"It's _A Feast for Crows_, by George R.R. Martin," Rachel monotonously replied. "Ryan recommended it."

My head snapped towards her at the mention of the name. "What about Ryan?"

Gar raised an eyebrow in question. "Kory's little bro. I thought you two went on a date together. You would've met him."

"Yeah we did, I…I was just…curious." Oh, dammit. Why are you so fucking lame, Grayson? _Who_ would buy that?

"Oh," said Gar. "Well, he likes reading war stuff. Political intray? Intruth. No, like…"

"Intrigue," Rachel added. "He goes to my college. He's a smart kid, just a little estranged."

"In what way? The kind to like Hamlet?" I fired the questions at her. She was overwhelmed, to say the least.

"He _hates_ Hamlet, actually. One of his few flaws," Rachel answered, a bit weirded out by the way I was being too curious to be _just curious_ about Kory's brother.

Gar furrowed his eyebrows at the situation. "Am I missing something here?"

I shook my head at him. "It's nothing. I was _just curious_. I swear."

Rachel rolled her eyes. Gar seemed to be deep in thought. I saw Rachel sneaking a glance at his face and inwardly smirked. She must've sensed the rise in smugness in the atmosphere and turned to glare at me.

"Hey, Rae, do you remember Kory's ex?"

What. The. Shit.

Well, I can't say I'm surprised. Someone like Kory was bound to have _some _history with guys. She can't stay single for seven years unless…oh, right. I forgot about the one history. The one reason she ran away from home and ended up here. I doubt she would've let _any_ guy approach her after that. But seven years is a long time…

"Dude had some issues, I tell ya," Gar continued, ignoring my flabbergasted expression. "Obsessing over Hamlet and stuff. He made a move on Rae at first because she geeked over the same things he did. But when Rae kept on rejecting him, he resorted to Kory."

The way he made it sound as if…never mind. Her ex has now piqued my interest.

"_Anyway_," Gar said, moving on from the topic. Damn, I missed my chance. "Why don't you come over at my pad sometime, John? I finally got a Gamestation 5 and, bonus point, Kory painted the _ceiling_…" he waggled his eyebrows at me.

And when one door closes, another door opens.

"You guys all have painted ceilings?" I asked.

Rachel and Gar nodded. "Kory even did this special coding where your deepest darkest secret in 'written in the stars'," Gar whispered loudly. "I got mine, Rae's got hers, Cy's got his, Kory too. Even the café's got Devenir written across the ceiling."

I nodded. "Yeah, I noticed."

"I bet you would," Gar winked. "You've been staring at the ceiling for longer than you've been talking to any of us."

I chuckled nervously. "So…what have you guys got written up there?"

Both of them shifted uncomfortably. I noticed the fleeting glance Rachel shot at Gar. And Gar's brief stare back when she wasn't looking.

They looked like a couple of middle-schoolers. Christ, this was awkward.

"I'll throw the cake away," Gar excused himself from the table, leaving me with an embarrassed Rachel.

"Don't worry," I said when Gar was out of range. "I won't say a word."

Rachel nodded in appreciation.

"One question," I leapt at the chance. "Do you perhaps know of the tarot card that corresponds to the number fifteen?"

Rachel's electric violet eyes widened. "The Devil," she answered, taking out a slip of paper from her tome. "It's my bookmark."

* * *

**A/N: I was resurrected from the Lazarus Pit. I'm so so so so so so so sorry this came way too late. I just hope I haven't lost you guys yet... Um... exciting (weird) stuff is coming up... and foreshadowing... and read the story summary again because it basically tells the whole story. And the anecdote at the beginning of chapter one. Yeah, basically, the mastermind differs from the killer. **

**Review, please? Have a nice day/night/afternoon! :)**


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